


Affinity for Oddities

by Fandroki_ed (Thorki_ed)



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Protective!Thor, Same-Sex Marriage, serious miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-11-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 03:58:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorki_ed/pseuds/Fandroki_ed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://norsekink.livejournal.com/10823.html?thread=22487367#t22487367">this norsekink prompt</a>:</p><p>tl;dr: Fandral has always pined over Loki, and is just about willing to do anything to show that he's not just another sexual conquest, but a string of miscommunications tangles their feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Forbidden Fruit

Loki was forbidden.

It was an unspoken rule throughout Asgard, since anyone with eyes could clearly see Thor's scrutinizing glance at anyone who came remotely close to the younger prince. He was a gift, gracing those in his presence with wit as sharp as a blade and intelligence beyond the books in the library. Where Thor was gold, Loki was silver, which happened to be more appealing to some as it was absolutely _exotic_. His features were dark, dangerously enticing, and they sat upon flawless skin, pale as the moonlight. Needless to say, he was desirable beyond imagination, yet untouchable. 

Fandral happened to have a certain affinity for oddities. From the day that Loki had started to come out with them, he was the odd one out, and it was in that very moment that Fandral was struck with desire. He was immediately enchanted with the way that Loki opted for an elegant bo staff instead of the blunt maces or hammers that other fierce warriors chose. More than that, he flew with grace and precision, always rendering his opponents useless with what the men called “his little stick”. It was one of the many things he missed about Loki’s growing absence around them, though there were still odd days where Loki would join them for training in the morning. The rarity usually consisted of Loki eyeing each weapon carefully before picking up whichever one he felt like in the moment. Today was one of those days, and Loki held his double broadswords, testing his grip on each one. 

“Hogun,” Loki greeted with a small nod. The grim man nodded back and hoisted his own katana, in acceptance of the unspoken challenge. 

The two men bowed and stepped backward in the ring, weapons poised to attack. Hogun made the first move, aggressive and straightforward. The first blow made Loki stumble backward, the weight of the broadswords still new to him. He countered, which Hogun parried away easily. The speed at which Loki learned to wield his new weapons was incredible, but Hogun was a master with his mace. They both tired within a few moments, and Fandral decided to give the poor prince some advice, “Stop using them as two swords, and think of them as one!” 

Loki’s head swivelled toward Fandral, leaving him open for Hogun to catch him in the sternum with the blunt end of his mace. As Loki stumbled backward, out of the ring, Fandral cringed. Loki’s eyes flashed with anger, clearly blaming Fandral for the distraction. He bowed curtly to Hogun before returning the swords to the weaponry and storming off.

Fandral quickly broke away from the group to catch up to him, cursing Loki’s long legs that allowed him to travel with such speed. “Loki!” he breathed as soon as he caught up.

When the prince swirled around, his eyes cold and dangerous, Fandral immediately stopped in his tracks and dropped to a knee. 

“Haven’t you done enough damage for one day?” He snapped, his voice as sharp as a razor. 

“Forgive me, my prince, I was only trying to help,” Fandral said sincerely, bowing his head.

“I don’t need your help!” he spat, whirling around to head to his chambers. Fandral rose to stand again, but he stared after the prince with a longing that ached more and more with every step Loki took. There was a feeling he couldn’t explain, all he knew was that Loki’s frown was possibly one of the worst sights he’d ever seen – and he was determined to fix it. 

 

~

 

The next morning, it was no surprise when Loki was nowhere in sight. Or the next. Or the next. By the time three weeks had passed, Fandral noticed that Loki had been missing from the scene for too long, even for the evasive prince. Though he wouldn’t admit to peering into the library, stables and other common rooms in hopes of catching a glimpse of him, he had to do something to sate his curiosity. 

“Ah, my king,” he said to Thor, knowing how much Thor basked in the flattery.

“Hm, not yet, good Fandral,” Thor replied with a knowing smile. “Tell me, what is it you wish of me now?”

Fandral chuckled nervously, but he knew there was no point in pretending now. He tried to play it off smoothly. “Me? Wanting something from you? Never!" 

Thor crossed his arms and smiled down at his friend, waiting.

Fandral raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, I was just wondering what has happened to your brother, is all. I have not seen him around for some time.”

Thor raised an eyebrow at this. “He has been ill as of late, though he shall recover just fine. None else have noticed his absence as you have, I must say.”

 _That is because none else see the true beauty,_ Fandral thought to himself. As for Thor’s accusing tone, he merely played it off with a quick, “I just wished to best him at swordplay. After all, I can’t let Hogun have all the fun and glory now!”

“Yes, that must be the reason,” Thor agreed, though his tone showed him obviously unconvinced. Fandral sighed in relief when Sif called him over to spar, and he was left to ponder whether or not it would be within his right to visit a prince in his royal chambers.

As it turns out, it wouldn’t be within his right, but Fandral was a determined fellow. With a dashing smile, wiggle of his eyebrows and gentle peck on the cheek, the servant girl practically smuggled him into the royal quadrant under her skirt. When she left him outside the barred door, he promised to never forget what she’d done for him, sending her off in a fit of giggles.

He raised his hand to knock on the door quietly. He knew that Loki was inside from the rustling behind the doors, and found his heart racing, partially because he was afraid of being caught, but mostly because he wasn't prepared for Loki's reaction - he hadn't exactly thought this out the whole way through.

When the door clicked open, Loki peered out of the crack, his face looking flawless as usual, but paler. His eyes were not as sharp and his chest was naked, the loose-fitting trousers being the only thing keeping him from being bare.

"Fandral?"You shouldn’t be in these quarters."

“My prince,” he inclined his head. “Forgive me, but I heard you were not faring well.”

“I’m going to kill Thor,” Loki mutters blandly.

“Peace, my prince,” he says in a friendly manner. “I only wished to see if you were well for myself.”

“… Why?” Loki asked, genuinely confused. 

Fandral was taken aback by the response. “Why… To see if you were okay. I thought us friends?”

As if he didn’t understand the concept, Loki furrowed his eyebrows, though his eyes glimmered softly. “I’m fine. I thank you for the visit, however unnecessary it may be. It is best you leave before you get caught... I would not want you to get in trouble on my behalf.” With that, he closed the door again, leaving Fandral to feel to as though a claw had gripped his heart.

 

~

 

The next time he saw Loki, he found himself staring after the prince examining the weapons. To his surprise, Loki picked up the same set of broadswords and once again challenged Hogun inside the ring. Hogun actually smiled at the thought of a re-match, no doubt expecting to best him yet again.

Loki pointedly stared at Fandral, who in return pinched his forefinger and thumb together, running them across his lips in a zipping motion. The small smile on Loki’s face made Fandral’s stomach give a little flip. As promised, he didn’t utter a single word – not that he needed to. Loki was effortlessly knocking aside Hogun’s strikes, the swords flying in perfect harmony as extensions of Loki’s limbs in seamless movement. Hogun was defeated within a few minutes, with a tip just below the chin, and Fandral clapped slowly, much to Hogun’s annoyance.

After bowing respectively, Loki promptly left the grounds, and Fandral slipped away yet again to tail the prince.

“That was a marvellous display. I must say, it is one of the best I have seen,” Fandral remarked. 

Loki took the compliment, though stiffly. “Thank you.”

The continued to walk side-by-side at the brisk pace Loki set, and Fandral had just about had enough of the cold attitude from the prince.

“Why must you leave so quickly after your matches?”

“I have things to do,” he answered vaguely.

“And what if I wish to speak to you?”

“What could we possibly have to say to each other, great Fandral the Dashing?” he asked sarcastically. 

“May I just ask what have I done to earn such distaste from you?” Fandral shot back, irritated.

Loki looked at him with an odd mixture of sadness and anger. “The fact that you fail to remember already speaks volumes.” He left Fandral in his confusion, unwilling to let Fandral see the hurt, the tears, in his eyes.


	2. Flashback to the Past

_"Can I play with you?"_

_The voice was so soft and song-like that the pair of boys turned around to see who it had come from. A boy unlike any other stood there timidly, his large green eyes glowing curiously. Fandral merely blinked at him, and Volstagg circled the boy as if he were inspecting a slab of meat._

_"Do you know how to play?" Volstagg asked._

_The young boy shrugged a little. "I've seen you play before. But you can teach me, can't you? I'm a really fast learner," he added eagerly, stepping towards them to join them._

_"What makes you think we'd want to?" Fandral asked, backing away as if Loki were the plague. Volstagg joined him in his laughter as they ran away together. It was only until they reached the outer city wall did the boys realize that the mysterious child hadn't followed them, and Fandral made sure to look out for the head of smooth black hair all day._

Loki remembered, even to this day, how they had run away from him, because he was different. Because he wasn’t like them.

 

~

 

_“This is my brother, Loki! Mother says he is finally old enough to play with us!” Thor announced one day to the pair. Volstagg and Fandral looked around Thor to the young boy hiding behind. Fandral immediately recognized the bright emerald eyes, though the boy was now older, his features had grown in suppler now, but it was undoubtedly him._

_Fandral smiled widely at him, “I remember you!”_

_Loki’s eyes immediately widened at the sight of the slight blonde, but said nothing. Thor was tugging at his younger brother’s sleeve, urging him to get involved with their games. When Thor saw the “castle” set up (the large discarded boulders from his mother’s garden), he immediately knew they were playing Rescue._

_“Be our princess!” Thor asked, and Loki’s nose crinkled in disgust._

_“I’m not a princess!”_

_“But you look like one!” Fandral insisted, wholeheartedly believing that Loki was the prettiest person he had ever laid eyes on. For reasons He couldn’t understand, the young boy stormed off in a huff, leaving his older brother and Volstagg already setting up their play weapons and Fandral staring after him wondering what he had done wrong this time._

 

Loki knew he shouldn’t have trusted Thor. Of course he would make friends with the golden boys of Asgard, always so concerned with themselves and proving how masculine they were all the time. He was _not_ a princess.

 

~

_Loki had outgrown the wooden swords and false castles by now, even though most of the children his age hadn’t. He only watched from the sidelines anyway, what could he do? He just wasn’t interested in running around stones wielding makeshift weapons, pretending to be a warrior of Asgard. There were more interesting things, like mother’s garden and Idunn’s tree – didn’t people wonder where their life sprung from, or how their realm offered health to them through the soil? It made more sense to Loki than beating each other up with sticks._

_“Brother! Come meet our new friends!” he heard Thor call._

_A part of him already knew what the possible outcome would be – running away, teasing, calling him a girl, taunting, or most likely, a combination of any of those. Still, he was but a youngling, naïve and hopeful. Perhaps this time would be different, he had thought._

_Upon meeting the new additions to the group, he smiled, truly optimistic that they could get along. There was a stocky looking boy, with dark hair just like his, and tan skin unlike everyone else, clearly from a different realm. He was quiet and timid, sort of like Loki. He looked at the other newcomer – a girl! She had golden hair like Thor and Fandral, but she was a girl nonetheless, and if they could accept her, they could accept him, right?_

_“Hello,” he said with a small wave and smile. The girl, Sif, introduced herself right away, speaking for Hogun as well. They chatted for a bit, and Sif was urging him to tell her more about the various herbs he had recently studied. Her mother happened to be a healer and had passed enough information onto Sif that she made for great conversation. Apparently, she found something he said extremely endearing as she placed a hand on his arm and giggled. Upon seeing this, Fandral decided to make quick quip – it was what he did best after all, and besides, he was happy for Loki, so why not try to help him?_

_“Ah, Loki! I've never seen your face so flush! As red as a baby's bottom! Sif, wouldn't you care to kiss a baby's bottom?"_

_Thor burst into such violent fits of laughter he fell to the floor, Volstagg unsuccessfully holding him up due to his own laughter. Even Hogun's shoulders were trembling in silent laughter and Sif herself flushed at the sudden attention they were getting. She mumbled something to him and quickly excused herself, while Loki opted to stare at the ground before stalking off, his cheeks burning and fits clenched._

_"I was only trying to help!" Fandral called after him._

_"I don't need your help!" the teenager had snapped._

That was the last time he trusted that group. Now, they were merely opponents in the field, comrades in arms in battle, nothing more. And he never needed Fandral's help - not then, not now. 

Yet he couldn't shake the memory of Fandral's innocent face. _To see if you were okay. I thought us friends?_

 _Friends_.

 _Nothing more than misplaced sentiment,_ he thought to himself as he finally retreated to his chambers, tears on the brink of spilling.


	3. Breakfast

It wasn’t unusual for Loki to skip dinner; Frigga often found him dozing in the royal garden, book strewn in his lap, Thor had often accidentally interrupted Loki in the middle of practicing his magic, and Heimdall had told Odin countless times that Loki had taken Sleipnir for a run. It was as if Loki completely disregarded the time of the day for the most part, and everyone had grown used to it. The staff even kept a hefty plate ready in case Loki visited late in the night when he couldn’t ignore the growling in his stomach anymore. This particular night, nobody had heard from Loki. The next morning, he wasn’t at breakfast either.

“Has Loki fallen ill again?” Fandral wondered, and Thor shook his head slowly.

“Not that I know of, no.”

“How odd,” Fandral commented. _But breakfast is Loki’s favourite meal of the day._

“Perhaps he has just slept in,” Volstagg suggested. 

_Except Loki never sleeps in._ “Yes, of course,” he pretended to agree.

“Perhaps he has had a _tiring night_ ,” a nearby warrior suggested with a wink. His friends chuckled and nudged him teasingly.

One of them added, “I did hear Einarr talking about trying his luck…”

Thor was up on his feet in an instant and towering over the poor warrior. “What did Einarr say?” he snarled.

“My prince, I assure you it was but a mere joke, I meant no disrespect!”

“What. Did. He. Say,” Thor emphasized each word with a tug on the man’s shirt, yanking him into a standing position.

“Well... It may have been along the lines of-”

“HIS EXACT WORDS!” Thor demanded.

Swallowing nervously, the young man said very hesitantly, “ _Those long lean legs would look ever more beautiful wrapped around me._ ” He squeaked when Thor dropped him unceremoniously on the bench again.

“I will have words with him,” Thor grumbled darkly. 

“Come, friends!” Volstagg bellowed, trying to defuse the tension. “This morning has given us perfect weather for training!” The sun was overhead but clouds rolled in periodically, blocking the heat, and there was indeed a cool breeze that would feel tremendous after exerting themselves. It was rare to have such perfect conditions; Asgard was usually on the warmer side, making their morning practices end in uncomfortable sweat. To say the least, it was very appealing to any warrior. Still, the nagging feeling wouldn’t leave Fandral alone.

“Do go on without me,” he said, earning him incredulous looks. “I’m afraid I have some other business to attend to.” He gave them apologetic smiles and Sif rolled her eyes while placing a hand on Thor’s forearm, attempting to keep him calm.

Volstagg wiggled his eyebrows. “She better be worth it, Fandral.”

More than content to let them believe that it was a woman, he bowed dramatically, letting them laugh and head off to the sparring rings without him. He made his way to the kitchens, busy with the post-breakfast clean-up. The workers hardly paid him any attention as he made his way to the foods still sitting in their pots. Whisking a plate off a nearby shelf, he began to pile on the quail eggs and rye bread, with ample amounts of jams, knowing that Loki liked the apricot and apple ones the best. He was very selective about the fruits, picking out the orange and grapefruit bits since Loki didn’t like citrus very much. When he was happy with his heaping plate, he grabbed a clean goblet and ducked into the cooled basin for a large flask of honeyed milk, knowing that Loki wasn’t much for mead in the mornings. 

“Did Volstagg miss breakfast?” an older woman asked him with her hands on her hips.

“Oh, he wouldn’t dream of it!” Fandral said rather theatrically. “He did however, insist on seconds.” The woman guffawed and shook her head, letting Fandral pass. On his way out, he stole a batch of green dendrobium orchids and tucked them into his cloak pocket. 

Being stealthy while balancing a large plate, a goblet and a flask was a difficult task as Fandral learned. He was almost instantly caught by a servant girl, who insisted that he was allowed in the royal quadrant. 

“Please, darling,” Fandral batted his eyelashes. 

“Oh goodness, you must be the one Dagmar warned us about,” she responded, rolling her eyes.

Fandral instantly remembered the previous servant girl he had encountered, whom he had never visited again, of course. “That silly girl! Please, is she here today?” he said quickly.

The girl scoffed at him. “If she were I would do well to never let her in your sight! You pig!”

“Then please, give these to her on my behalf,” Fandral said, regrettably taking the stolen orchids out from his inner cloak pocket.

“Oh my…” the girl said. 

“I meant to cross by her this fair morning, the sun shone so brilliantly I could not help but think of her smile, the breeze so soft I could only think of her voice.”

His words caused the girl to shuffle uncomfortably as she muttered, “Perhaps I was wrong about you.”

“Do get those to her before they wilt, would you please?”

“Yes, of course,” she said before bowing slightly and turning on her heel to find her friend. Fandral sighed in relief and continued to Loki’s chambers now that the girl was nowhere in sight. Spotting the intricate work upon the door, he knocked softly and waited anxiously.

When the door swung open the slightest bit, Loki was balancing a ball of fire in his hand. He blinked in surprise, flicking his hand to rid the spell and raised a delicate eyebrow. “To what do I owe you this pleasure?”

“You were not at breakfast,” Fandral stated.

“I’m aware.”

 _Right,_ Fandral thought dumbly. Had he really gone from charming his way out of trouble to losing his words completely? “Well, um… I thought I might bring you something.”

“For… Me?” Loki eyed the enormous plate hungrily, trying desperately to ignore the aching pangs in his stomach. 

Fandral smiled brightly. “Yes, of course. Breakfast is your favourite meal of the day after all.”

Loki stared at him dubiously. _How did he know?_ He must have only mentioned this fact twice in his entire lifetime. As withdrawn as he was, he knew his manners. “Please, come in.” He swung the door open all the way to reveal his luxurious chambers.

Fandral stepped in cautiously before realizing that the floor was completely clear of any mess that Thor’s room would have held. In fact, everything was immaculate and in order, and Fandral inspected the new surroundings carefully. 

“Allow me,” Loki said, taking the large plate from Fandral’s hand and setting it on his work desk, completely void of all clutter. He conjured up at extra chair of Fandral, who took a seat with thanks.

He continued to study the vast room and take note of how _different_ it was from Thor’s room – it was quite honestly the opposite. Where Thor’s was bright and sunny with the curtains thrown aside at all times, red all over, Loki’s was darker with the light peeking through just a corner of the window where had pinned the curtains back. The only splashes of colour were the same dark green of most of his attire, everything else in a muted black or wood.

“Why did you do this?” Loki asked as he poked through the fruit salad consisting of just honeydew, watermelon, cantaloupe, apple and grapes. 

“Because you always leave behind the grapefruit and orange?” Fandral answered, completely avoiding the true question.

“You know precisely what I meant,” Loki said, this time staring at Fandral. 

Unable to escape the scrutinizing stare, he chewed the inside of his cheek before deciding to be his usual self. “You’re too skinny, and I like my men with bulk.” He added a playful wink, to which Loki rolled his eyes at.

Fandral poured the milk into the goblet and slid it over to Loki who was popping a quail egg in his mouth and chewing slowly. He sniffed the goblet curiously before realizing that Fandral had not given him mead or rye whiskey, or even regular milk. He stopped to survey everything that Fandral had brought him.

“How did you know to bring me honeyed milk instead of mead? Or to avoid the citrus in the fruits? Or to bring me apricot and apple jams instead of the more common strawberry or grape? And why did you leave out the morning roast?”

Fandral held his hands up in a mock surrender at Loki's onslaught. “I just pay attention! Anyone who’s paid the slightest bit of attention would know all these things.” Loki’s face twisted in anger rather than relief, and his eyes turned icy as they peered at Fandral. “Wh-what? Did I say something wrong?”

“My own family still thinks I prefer mead, that I enjoy the oranges and grapefruits, that I am content with grape jelly and that I actually _like_ the roast meats so early in the morning,” Loki said stiffly. “But thank you for pointing out to me that my own flesh and blood don’t pay attention to me.” 

Fandral opened his mouth in shock and frantically shook his head. “No! No, that’s not what I was say-” 

“No, it’s quite alright, I’ve already known for some time. Though they always seem to remember what Thor enjoys, even what cut of the beef he prefers, as if he could bring himself to care – he’d eat just about anything, even if it were the poor cow’s arse.”

Fandral laughed then, though he tried his best not to make light of what was obviously a serious situation. He clamped his hand over his mouth as Loki tilted his head to side suspiciously. “I’m sorry,” he managed as he gasped for air. “But you’re clearly the more humorous one in the family.”

Loki hummed to acknowledge the flattery, and seemed to settle back into nibbling at the bread – dipped in both jams, which made Fandral grin. “What?” Loki asked, licking the excess jam off his bottom lip.

“Nothing,” Fandral shrugged. “You’re the only I know who uses two jams. And evenly.”

Loki felt a grin creep up his face before saying, “I favour both jams equally. I wouldn’t want one to think I wasn’t paying attention to it.” They both laughed at this, and Loki even pushed the plate towards Fandral in a silent offering. Fandral would have to ask Loki how he managed to take the situation and joke about it later. For now, he scooted closer to Loki and popped a grape into his mouth, not wanting to ruin this moment of a new, more open Loki. 

“You know Loki, I think Thor only gets attention because he’s as loud as a herd of oxen. People often forget the quiet ones are the most dangerous.”

Loki seemed to contemplate this. “Are you insinuating that I am a threat?”

“Absolutely.”

“And you’ve voluntarily come to me, trapping yourself in my chambers?”

Fandral thought about this. “I am surprisingly okay with this,” he decided with a suggestive grin. Loki shook his head with a small smile. Perhaps Fandral was not as bad as he originally thought… Yet the memories of their childhood kept resurfacing. He was prepared for Fandral to run, to tease him, and he didn’t know if that would ever stop.


	4. Fool Me Again

When most of the plate was cleared between them, Fandral patted his belly heartily in a very Volstagg-like manner. “Would love to work some of this off. Fancy a match?” He was still itching for that ideal sparring weather, desperate to feel the cool breeze against his skin.

Loki could see the man eyeing the sun peaking in through his curtain, knowing he must be dying to be cooped up when he could be outside swinging his sword around. He was just like Thor, a golden boy, and a king in his own right – none could wield a sword better than he. “I should think not, but you are free to go join the others. Thank you for the visit,” he said courteously. 

Fandral frowned at his answer. “What do you do all day in here? Just read?”

Loki’s small smile fell from his lips at the intrusive and rude question. “None of your business,” he said tersely. He should have known better, than to think Fandral was different. Everyone thought he was a coward – argr – when he did not routinely spar, yet little did they understand how much effort he put into his studies, his magic – his magic that had saved countless lives, for that matter. 

“Hey,” Fandral leaned forward to touch Loki’s forearm, which he saw tense up at the contact. “I meant no offense.” Loki seemed to relax only the slightest bit. “I only wished to know how you maintain your figure when you only grace us with your presence during practice once a moon cycle.” 

Loki scoffed. “Thought you said I was too skinny?” 

Fandral laughed. “No, no… I think you’re perfect just as you are.” 

Loki’s mouth opened on its own accord, though no words came out. He quickly snapped it shut again when Fandral looked his way and pretended to be fascinated by the empty goblet in his hand, avoiding those crystal blue eyes. He was thankful for the dim lighting in his room so that Fandral would not see the mortifying blush that crept up his face, not that he would admit it was due to Fandral’s words. Still, his wit was sharp as always. “Charming as always,” he said in a sarcastic manner. “Now don’t you have some mud to roll in?”

“That’s the loser’s job,” Fandral replied in quick. He grinned at their light hearted banter, finding the prince’s quick mind a nice change from his friends who couldn’t keep up. He stood up slowly, hesitant to have their time end so quickly. He had genuinely enjoyed Loki’s company, and he still had so many questions. Loki had changed so much from the shy, teary-eyed little boy that once tried to play with them, now a grown man who walked with confidence and kept his distance by choice until swooping in to flatten them all and disappearing again. Unwilling to give in so easily, he tried again. “Is there nothing I can do to change your mind, my prince?” As with everything he did, he went over-the-top in bowing down on knee, gently grabbing one of Loki’s hands in his own and placing a kiss so gentle it felt more like a tickle. He could make out a faint scent of spring water and aloe on Loki’s skin, which made a goofy smile form on his face.

Loki sighed, retracting his hand and crossing his arms to tuck it underneath his elbow. “Only if you’ll agree to let me to use my bo staff,” he bargained.

“Yes, of course,” Fandral happily agreed, staring up at the prince with smouldering eyes. 

Loki tried to ignore the look and gave a small nod. “Go on ahead, I shall be down in a moment.” Fandral looked at him suspiciously as he rose from his knees. “Fandral, I’m only getting dressed,” Loki explained, rolling his eyes. As if he would go back on his word so easily. 

“What, I can’t watch?” Fandral asked playfully though he was already walking towards the door. “I’ll be waiting for you,” he said softly, letting the door click in place behind him.

Loki was left to stand there, confused by what had transpired between them. It truly seemed that Fandral had no malicious intent, yet he refused to let his guard down. He was hesitant in accepting Fandral’s offer to spar, thinking it was a trap of some sort – to best him, humiliate him in front of everyone, perhaps? No doubt half of Asgard would be out today with the gorgeous weather. He had only been insistent on using his best weapon to assure himself that Fandral would not have it easy, and it comforted him slightly.

_What is he genuinely believes us friends, and enjoyed my company as I did his?_

He shook his head of the ridiculous thought. It couldn’t be, after all. Fandral had proven that time and time again, and he’d be damned if he thought for even a moment that all those times in the past could be forgiven simply over a plate of breakfast. He gathered himself slowly, dressed properly in light leathers to give him the slightest bit of protection across his midsection, forearms, and shoulders. He figured the forest green tunic he had on underneath would be thin enough to combat the heat, and slipped his boots on. His insecurities held him back as he paced, but in the end, decided that perhaps, he would take the risk just _one_ more time. 

 

~

 

Fandral was just thinking that perhaps, with his luck today, he might bring Thor’s attention to his affections. Surely, his dear friend would understand that he had Loki’s best intentions in mind, that he truly cared for Loki’s well-being and happiness? Perhaps even one day, he would ask Loki… He was just arriving when he noticed a large huddle of men. _Thor,_ he thought simply. Everyone loved watching the heir to the throne fight; they had to make sure he would be able to protect them, right? He excused himself as he nudged his way through the crowd, ignoring the grunts of displeasure until he could finally see into the eye of the storm. It was Thor alright – holding Einarr by the collar of his shirt and growling in his face.

“He has it coming!” the stocky man said, his hands clamped tightly around Thor’s wrists, eyes ablaze with fury at his public humiliation. 

“I dare you to accuse my brother of such a thing again,” Thor threatened, bringing their noses together. He looked around for the other but found them tied up with trying to hold back Einarr’s friends. 

“What’s going on here?” he asked around, and the men closest to him snorted. 

“Einarr and his idiot friends were making some rather crude remarks about Thor’s little brother,” they informed him. “It isn’t going so well for them now, is it?”

Fandral felt his blood boil, and desperately moved to calm Thor down – or bring Loki Einarr’s head – he couldn’t tell which yet. 

The half-strangled man spat at Thor’s chest. “He thinks he’s too good for us but he teases us all!” There was a collective agreement from his group of friends. “You don’t think he sways his little hips for a good show? He’s just as desperate to be fucked like a little whore but can’t get anyone into bed, I’d only be giving him what he wants!”

He didn’t get a chance to say much after that as Thor threw him across the field – a good fifty yards away.

“You’re only mad because he’s _right_ , Thor! He’s a tease!”

“Yeah, have you ever seen him take anyone to bed? What does he spend all day doing inside his room, you ever think of that?”

“Exactly! He’ll have rubbed himself sore before coming out for help from us!”

Thor turned to look at the tossed man’s lewd friends, shouting awful, obscene things.

“Thor!” Fandral cried. The fuming prince looked up, just realizing his friend was there. The crowd parted for him the moment Thor took a step towards him, and he just shook his head in disbelief. He was disgusted with the way they spoke of Loki!

“I will rip their heads off one by one!” Thor bellowed.

Two of Einarr’s companions stepped forth past Sif, and got in Thor’s face. “You better watch your little princess brother, or he’ll get what’s coming to him,” Friðþjófur warned.

Hallsteinn felt the need to add in with a wicked sneer. “We’re not the only ones who want a piece of that sly little trickster. He would do better not to walk around in all that form-fitting gear.”

At the same time Thor’s hand reached Hallsteinn’s throat, Fandral had his rapier to Friðþjófur’s neck, the point biting at enough flesh to draw a tiny drop of bright red blood.

“Enough!” Hogun shouted, shoving the men back, glaring at the pair of blondes so ready to kill. “Take your friend. Leave.” The tension was thick enough to drown in as the four men squared off, exchanging poisonous glares that held promises to continue this in the future. Eventually, the two shoved past, making sure to bump Fandral and Thor in the shoulders, walking to Einarr, whose face had been bloodied by the impact of the ground. 

“Come on, nothing to see here!” Sif shouted to the crowd, waving them away. It took a while for them to disperse, but eventually clanging and hollers of friendly matches filled the air again, leaving Thor and his friends still in disbelief. 

“Come Thor, blow off some steam,” Volstagg suggested. Thor slammed his war hammer into the ground. Asgard should be thankful that Thor never brought Mjolnir to practice or a good section of the realm would be missing entirely instead of the small-by-comparison crater Thor had just created. It took a lot of encouragement, coaxing – and an infinite source of courage to challenge Thor while he was in such a mood, but soon, Volstagg, Hogun and even Sif had enticed Thor into letting his anger out through a controlled match instead of going rogue on some poor warrior. 

Fandral would have joined had he not been so shaken by the events that unfolded. _How could they really think that of Loki? Loki was withdrawn, yes, but he was a scholar – shouldn’t it be expected for him to study?_ It didn’t matter anyhow; it’s not as if Loki wasn’t fit for battle when he needed to be! He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he hardly registered the low murmurs in the air replacing the clash of weapons.

 

~

 

Walking through the large practice field, Loki felt several pairs of eyes follow him as he weaved around the bodies to the weaponry. He knew they often stared at him due to his presence being so rare, or perhaps to see what weapon he would pick and how well he could wield it. Still, it felt a little more unnerving than usual today, their eyes more persistent than ever before, studying his every move. His hand automatically flew to the bo staff, the familiar weight of reinforced wood bringing him some comfort. Ignoring the whispers, he spotted Fandral easily by looking for Volstagg’s towering head of flaming red hair. He had to admit, he was rather impressed by his brother successfully fending off three of his friends today, and stepped around a rather inconveniently placed crater, which he could only assume came from a blow of Thor’s weapon for some reason. He was glad whoever was on the receiving end had moved in time, thinking it would be tragic to see Volstagg, Hogun, or Sif flattened into the ground. 

“Didn’t feel like joining in?” he asked Fandral, who jumped as he turned around. 

With a hand flying to his chest, he blinked rapidly before breathing evenly again. “Loki!” 

“I apologize if I frightened you,” Loki replied. “Had you already forgotten that I was to meet you?” The slight irritation in his last few words was impossible to miss.

“No! Of course not! I have been looking forward to our match,” Fandral insisted, wiping the sweat from his palms on his pants. 

He walked as best he could on wobbling legs to the further side of the ring, turning to face Loki. They locked eyes and bowed, Fandral just barely able to keep the eye contact instead of glaring at the men behind Loki who were staring at the prince’s bent over form. Thor and the others had stopped their intensified match to watch, making Fandral all the more nervous. 

Surprisingly, Loki made the first move, and for someone who usually never went on the offensive first, he was incredibly accurate. Fandral brought up his rapier at the last second. He tried to counter, but Loki’s staff seemed to be everywhere at once, deflecting his blows, sliding his sword whichever way Loki pleased. 

“That stick looks good in your hands, princeling! Perhaps you could wield mine!” someone snickered. Loki didn’t even hear it; he was a master of the unpredictable craft of magic, he knew better than to let himself be distracted by anything outside the battle. He also didn’t notice Thor stomping over angrily, or the fact that Fandral’s eyes flickered over his shoulder for a moment. He did, however, notice that the crowd over Fandral’s shoulder was jeering for some reason, chuckling and murmuring while staring at him. 

In an unexpected turn of his body, Loki bypassed Fandral’s next attack, digging his staff into the ground and swinging his entire body around to catch Fandral in the chest, sending him skidding through the dirt. The fancy little move caused a few men in the crowd to whistle, which Loki took as a normal – men cheered each other on during battle, did they not? Fandral however, knew they were whistling for an entirely different reason. He too, admittedly, was stunned by how graceful Loki’s lithe body was as he swung himself around his _pole_. 

Crying out in frustration and anger with these men, he attacked again, swinging his sword widely without precision. Loki deflected each and every attack with ease, his expression growing more irritated. _This is not a glorious battle, nor a true challenge – he mocks me with this child’s play._

Fandral went to pick himself up off the ground once more.

“Enough,” Loki declared. He walked over to Fandral, chest heaving with his efforts to breathe and looked at him with deadly eyes. Respectfully, he offered Fandral a hand up while leaning in close enough to whisper, “I do not take kindly to foolishness. I know not what you are planning, but I have been humiliated by you for the last time." He left without another word to anyone. 

This time, Fandral didn’t follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgive me for this part, though it's one of the longest chapters I've worked on. Einarr and his friends really hurt my soul, but I promise you it was necessary. look at protective!Fandral, just look at him!
> 
> next chapter coming soonish


	5. I Was a Hero, Once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> enjoy the nice little flashback, because haven't we _all_ wondered what happened in Alfheim?

Loki dropped his clothes on the ground unceremoniously, not that they had really been dirtied. His match with Fandral was disappointing to say the least; he had expected a competitive match as he knew Fandral was capable of, yet the man was all awkward flailing and graceless thrashing today. It sickened Loki to think that he had given Fandral the benefit of the doubt, and walked into his little trap again.

The jeering men, the laughter and murmur in the crowd – he had been _set up_ by Fandral, hadn’t he? Still, he couldn’t understand why Fandral would go through with something like that, had he not been equally humiliated?

 _No, of course not._ He was _Fandral_ the Dashing, the golden flirt of Asgard, charming whomever he wanted with plates of breakfast and leaving them whenever he pleased with a clearly thrown match.

He felt an odd sense of betrayal, as if Fandral _owed_ him something, which was silly, wasn’t it? 

 

~  
 __  
“Thor, this is ridiculous,” Fandral pouted. He knew it wouldn’t do him any good, the young prince wanted to meet a women of Alfheim, as they were rumoured to be the most beautiful in all the realms. Fandral had initially agreed with gusto that he too wanted to lay eyes on such a beauty, yet when he met Volstagg and Thor upon the Bifrost, he noticed Loki standing beside him and the desire went away completely. He scolded himself then – how could anything ever compete with the beauty that already stood before him?

Thor paid no attention his lack of enthusiasm though, merely clasped a hand upon his shoulder and welcomed him to the journey, Volstagg doing the same. Loki was quiet, reserved, and didn’t offer much more than a slight incline of his head and slow blink which oddly felt more intimate to Fandral than his friends’ hands on his shoulders. Heimdall put up no fight when Thor demanded to be patched through, and upon entering Alfheim, it was nothing as they expected. 

It was needless to say the Bifrost would not be opening up to them as they found themselves quickly surrounded by the tips of blades and points of arrows. 

“Hm. Even more ridiculous than I thought,” Fandral muttered, grunting as Volstagg elbowed him to shut up.

“Asgardians, what business do you have here?” the obvious captain of the squad said. He had golden armour polished to perfection, a war circlet sat on his head, gleaming against the pale skin, and kept his long, silver hair tucked behind pointed ears. 

“We have come for your women!” Thor announced proudly with a beaming smile.

“Idiot.”

Fandral thought he might have imagined Loki’s soft voice, he’d heard nothing from the dark-haired prince the entire trip, but Loki was already bringing his palm up to his face before pinching the bridge of his nose in obvious frustration with Thor’s cluelessness. He then saw Loki’s free hand twitching by his side and realized that he didn’t grasp a weapon like the rest of them. Loki was unarmed. Vulnerable. 

The thought unsettled Fandral, and he found himself sliding his way over to the boy, eyes staring at the wall of soldiers surrounding them. They clearly weren’t pleased with Thor’s answer – and Fandral had to agree with Loki here. _What a fool!_

“You will touch none of ours with those filthy hands!”” the captain roared in anger. With his sword pointed, he led the charge. 

Fandral gulped at the onslaught – he was always prepared for a challenge, but they were vastly outnumbered, not to mention that one of them was _unarmed._ It should be pointed out that the Light Elves were extremely angered by Thor’s comment, and that angered Light Elves were out for blood. In a matter of seconds, Volstagg was already sporting a few nicks from the arrows whizzing past him, though his axe still swung with precision. Thor was handling himself well, save for the fact that an arrow had embedded itself in his left thigh. Fandral swung his sword mercilessly, adrenaline pumping in his ears, his back to Loki, in hopes of fending off the attackers. Nobody saw the men fall at Loki’s feet, eyes closed with heavy slumber. His hands glowed for a moment longer. Volstagg bumped Fandral out of the way of a speeding arrow just as Loki had thrown a dagger at the Elf who raised a sword to Thor’s back, but try as they may to protect one another, the fight wore them down. They were fighting for survival, and just barely hanging on. 

Thor cried out in anguish when the tip of an Elf’s sword dug into the flesh below his shoulder, and his movements became slower, his sword and hammer swinging out of synch. Fandral cursed himself for getting distracted the moment he felt a piercing pain in his abdomen. He looked down to see the shaft of an arrow protruding from him, covered in blood - _his_ blood. Every move he made felt like his skin was being torn, and his swordsmanship was quickly deteriorating. The Elves took advantage – his closest attacker lunged at him, sword poised, and Fandral barely moved out of the way in time. Unfortunately, he landed on his back and the pain was so great he could barely prop himself on his elbows, let alone stand. He saw his reflection in the glint of his attacker’s sword – his face of panic and worried eyes, hair matted down with blood and sweat. He despised that his own defeat would be the last thing he saw as his eyes concentrated on the blade that was about to be brought down on his head. 

Suddenly, a large black cloud settled in over them, and he heard the Elves cry out in confusion. His attacker was slowly disappearing from sight when he saw a flash of black and green hurl into the Elf, and the strangled high-pitch scream. He could barely comprehend what had just transpired, the pain now searing his mind in white hot flashes, causing him to screw his eyes shut. A hand had curled around his bicep, urging him up. When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring into wide pools of royal emerald and for a second, he thought he might drown in them, but Loki’s frantic voice and strong arms helped him to his feet in an instant. He left Fandral to regain his balance to grab Thor and Volstagg as well, knowing his smoke screen wouldn’t last. Not in his condition. 

A hand grasping each of their sleeves, he led them back to Fandral, who looked the most injured out of all of them, doubled-over and clutching his stomach.

“We have to go. Now,” Loki said sternly. Nobody questioned the young one, now in charge. They followed him blindly, as he was the only one who could see through the blackness, forming a chain as they held hands.

When they were finally able to see again, they found themselves in a dense forest with low branches and thick vines that hung like curtains. There was no wind, yet the air was cool, and the roots below their feet thrummed with a life force that unsettled the warriors. Loki immediately collapsed into a heap.

“Loki!” Thor cried, scurrying to his brother’s side despite his injured leg.

“Hush, you great oaf!” Loki replied, panting heavily. “They know not where we have gone. We must keep quiet until they pass.” Thor nodded, giving his word of understanding. 

“I will tend to Fandral first, but take this,” Loki said to Thor, handing over a small healing stone. “You and Volstagg can easily heal the minor scrapes and bruises, but leave the arrows to me, do you hear?” Thor nodded again, wordlessly. He never questioned Loki, even if Loki was the younger, and his trust had always paid off. Volstagg had two arrows protruding from his shoulder, the blood dripping down his arm in intertwined rivers, as he hobbled over to Thor. 

“I’m sorry,” Loki whispered to Fandral, kneeling by his side. The blonde man was confused.

“Whatever for?”

Loki smothered Fandral’s mouth and yanked the arrow out, causing hot explosions in the back of Fandral’s eyes as he cried out against the hand. Loki quickly covered the wound with his other hand, murmuring words under his breath. When he deemed Fandral calm enough, he removed his other hand and placed it on Fandral’s forehead. Fandral gasped in relief as he felt the tingling coolness against his fevered forehead and festered wound. He began to nod off until his stomach felt as though it were being pierced all over again. He gritted his teeth, looking down at Loki’s work. He stared in awe as his flesh stitched itself back together, the torn muscle underneath mending.  
When the deed was done, there was a heavy scar, though Fandral didn’t mind it.

“I promise I will fade the scar after I have tended to the others,” Loki promised, getting to his feet quickly. He let his hand linger a little while longer on Fandral’s forehead before pulling away with a small smile, his fingertips trailing like a light breeze. Fandral opened his mouth to thank him, but was immediately overcome with sleep. _Thank you,_ he thought before his eyes shut.

“Is he going to be alright?” Volstagg asked, worried for his life-long friend. 

“Yes, he will recover. The wound had started to become infected, making it painful to be removed. I suspect the Elves have enchanted their arrow tips. I cast him into a quick sleep for now, until we are ready to leave.” He was thankful to have learned the spell, which allowed him to put another party to rest for a few minutes, as he was never one for slaying and killing, the blood and gore of it all, like Thor. No doubt the Elves he had put to sleep earlier were awake now, and probably hunting for them, though.

Volstagg expressed his gratitude by pulling the young prince close to him in a one-armed hug, which he quickly withdrew from as he saw Thor narrow his eyes over Loki’s shoulder. Loki quickly snapped back to reality, getting down to business. 

“Come, Thor. I will try to heal the both of you, for I fear that if I leave one of you for two long, your wound might become too plague-ridden.” Thor hobbled over to sit beside Volstagg. “I encourage pelts for this,” he said to the two warriors. Thor stripped his thick shoulder guards, offering one to Volstagg, and they both warily placed the leathers into their mouths.

With a firm grasp on the arrows in Volstagg’s shoulder, he pried them out, wincing as Volstagg hollered behind his pelt, his face sweaty and strained to keep from making too much noise. Loki clamped his hand down on the large wound made by the arrows that had struck in the same place, and with his other hand, moved for Thor’s thigh. Thor let out a grunt, his leg jerking after the arrow had been pulled. With his hands now covering two large, bloodied wounds, Loki summoned twice as much energy as he had done with Fandral, fighting the exhaustion that swept through his body. Their wounds were more resistant than Fandral’s had been, given the time that had elapsed. By the time he was finished with their wounds, flesh flawless once more and showing no sign of battle, he immediately went to move back to Fandral. If anyone had noticed he didn’t walk entirely straight nor entirely steadily, they didn’t mention it. He was breathing heavily, and he could feel the strain on his body. Still, he had promised Fandral, and he _never went back on his word_ if it were true. 

The skin beneath his hand was clammy with cooled sweat, and Fandral’s breathing was nice and even, much to Loki’s relief. He gingerly placed his fingers around the slightly swollen scar, and willed the skin to even, and patch itself seamlessly. Fandral was jolted awake by the sensation and studied the sight before him.

Loki’s immaculate short hair had fallen from its place behind his delicate ears, framing a flushed face, pinched with concentration. He wished Loki’s eyes were open so that he would see into the enchanting green eyes that had saved him earlier – twice now, but they were shut. When he saw the trembling fingers work upon his skin, and his skin in turn respond to the touch so willingly, this time without pain, he was ever thankful they had brought Loki with them. He had been the true hero of the day. When he heard Loki almost gasp for air, he pieced it together all too late.

“Loki!” he called, batting the prince’s hands away.

In response, Loki murmured something, and the space before them warped, before a clean slice in the space seemed to glow. Loki took a step toward it before collapsing, with Fandral barely catching him in time. 

“Brother!” Thor called, too loudly. There came a chorus of shouts and rumbling before the warriors looked at each other – they had been found. With Loki unconscious, they were at a loss, even Thor, as he stumbled with his next words.

“My brother looked to be making a move towards this… this…”

“Portal. It must be a portal,” Volstagg said as he inspected the rift.

“I trust him,” Fandral said steadily, walking towards it with confidence, Loki cradled in his arms. He was just about to enter it when Thor pushed him through, Volstagg close behind. The portal closed when they stepped through it, but they were not in Asgard. They were back where they had started, though their opponents were long gone, no doubt charging through the forest by now.

 

“Heimdall!” Thor shouted, and this time, the Bifrost opened without question. Fandral held Loki tightly the entire trip, insisting on riding with Loki in his lap, speeding him off to the healing room. He didn’t leave Loki’s side for the rest of the day, until the healers had ushered him out for a shower.

When Loki awoke, he was alone. Afraid. Thor had been the first one to visit him, and the first smile he saw. Loki enjoyed Thor’s recounts of pride and trust in him, and the promise of a feast in his name. He had said it wasn’t necessary, but he didn’t hide the smile when Thor insisted nonetheless. 

~

_Yes._

How very silly. Fandral didn’t owe him anything _at all._

~

“Please, let us bow to the great **_ergi_** of our time.” 

“He is but a deviant, fleeing from battle when he is needed to fight…” 

“Ha! His argr ways will be scoffed at when he joins the ranks of our armies, and he will be left behind in the horses’ tails.” 

They may have been whispers, but Loki heard them all. The grand feast before him suddenly turned into a mockery of his work, the roast in his mouth turning to sawdust. He forced himself to gulp the bite down, losing his appetite for the rest of the foods on his plate. The mead made the men around him careless, the strawberry jam on his plate like blood, sickening him. Thor was naturally with Fandral and Volstagg, laughing and joking amongst the warriors. _Probably about me,_ Loki thought bitterly, even though he knew deep, deep down inside, his brother would never hurt him. But his anger was blinding against all reason. He hated it – he knew he shouldn’t have let Thor do this for him. Without a word, he retreated from the drunken crowds, loud in their revelry. He caught Fandral’s eye before leaving, his gaze had screamed for help and comfort, anything at all, but Fandral had merely laughed at the welling up with tears. He padded his way back to his bedroom, the tears falling silently without a sound. 

~

Loki decided there was no point dwelling on the past, even though his nerves were ablaze with pent up resentment. He decided a talk with his dear mother would help him some, and went to ready himself.


	6. Not The Only Thing

Fandral had watched Loki leave, his words hanging in the air heavily. _Humiliated by you for the last time._ What in the realms had Loki been talking about? 

Thor came over to pat him lightly on the back, thinking that his bowed head was in defeat rather than confusion. “Worry not, Fandral. You will have your victory one day,” Thor said in comfort. 

Fandral merely shook his head, because how could he possibly make Thor understand? He shrugged the giant hand off his shoulder and strolled furiously to Loki’s room. He had tried so hard to please, tried so hard to make Loki see that he cared for him, yet the prince didn’t so much as bat an eyelash toward him – he even went as far as to say that Fandral humiliated him? Repeatedly? 

No. Fandral wouldn’t stand for that.

It was if the servants along the way didn’t exist to him as he all but stomped his way to the familiar door. He rapped sharply on the hindrance, hard enough to crack his knuckles. There came a dull thud on the other end, as if Loki had dropped something in surprise.

“Hey! You can’t be in here!” a servant boy shouted at Fandral.

“I’ll be where I want to be!” Fandral replied in frustration. _Open your door, Loki._

“I’ll get the guards!” the pestering boy threatened.

“You do that, then!” he shouted back. _Come on, Loki._ He grew more agitated by the second and the moment he heard the fleeing footsteps of the servant, he knew he only had a few moments before he would be shamefully manhandled out fo the palace and thrown onto the streets.

“Loki! We need to talk!” Fandral shouted through the door. 

“Step away from the prince's door!” came a voice that was quite opposite of the timid servant before. Fandral cursed under his breath and banged on the door again. “Loki, dammit!”

Before he could utter another word, a large hand clamped down on his arms and pulled them behind his back. He let out a small noise of pain and surprise, and just as the guard had pulled him back forcefully from the door, it swung open. Fandral immediately gave him a look of despair, pleading for help, but as he looked up at Loki, he couldn’t help but notice that the prince’s eyes were slightly bloodshot. He looked as though he were just about ready to meet someone in sleek black breeches and a soft green tunic that fit his form perfectly. The only armour he donned were the two golden arm braces that he know Loki treasured beyond almost anything else – a gift, from his mother.

“Prince, we found this man –”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Loki said curtly, eyes flickering between the guard, Fandral, and the servant now hiding behind the guard’s back. He let his eyes rest again on Fandral, noting the desperate look in his clear blue eyes. _Yet again, I allow myself to be humiliated by this man._

“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll deal with this matter myself,” he spoke to the guard, who only gave him a sceptical look before nodding slowly.

“As you wish,” he said while releasing Fandral, bowing slightly and turning to leave. The servant looked lost, and afraid for letting Fandral storm past him. He opened his mouth to apologize but feared the prince’s wrath.

“Worry not, you are in no trouble” Loki said, reading the fearful expression all too well. “I’m nothing like my brother,” he added, dismissing the boy with a careless wave of his hand.

The servant bowed so deeply his forehead was to his knees, muttering something about “won’t happen again” before scurrying off to attend to Thor’s room next.

“Care to explain why door now has your blood on it?” he asked, inspecting the slight dents in the polished wood and turning his attention to Fandral’s knuckles. 

“Care to explain why you think I seem to have a personal vendetta against you?” Fandral retaliated hotly, immediately regretting his tone when he saw Loki clench his fists by side. “My apologies,” he tried. “I just… I cannot understand this. I believed us friends all this time.”

“I have somewhere to be,” Loki said quickly, completely changing the topic. “If you’ll excuse me.” He went to step past Fandral, but paused for a split second. He lifted Fandral’s right hand, placing his cool fingertips across the slightly bloodied knuckles. Fandral hissed at the touch, but exhaled contently when he felt a numbing spread through his hand, and was grateful that Loki still took the time to heal him. When he felt Loki’s touch retreat, he looked down and flexed his fingers. The skin was as it was before, seamless without a scar in sight.

Before he could thank Loki, the prince had already walked away, leaving Fandral to ponder Loki’s contradicting actions once again. 

 

\--

 

Frigga knew her son was coming before he even stepped foot on the garden path. She sat regally on the bench, surrounded by delighted chirping birds. Though he never a made a noise when he walked through the garden, she greeted him without turning around. 

“It comforts me to know that you shall never be taken by surprise, at least,” Loki said honestly.

Frigga smiled warmly at him and rose to wrap her arms around her son. She blissfully remembered the days she had done this when he was but a child, tucking his head underneath her chin and rocking him back and forth on that very bench. Now he stood taller than her, and she the one to have her head tucked under his chin as he wrapped his lithe arms around her waist. 

“And it comforts me to now that I will always sense your presence,” she replied. She motioned for him to join her on the bench, offering him the shaded side. A mother’s instincts could never be fooled, and the redness around his eyes was such a contrast to his porcelain skin, she couldn’t miss it if she tried. All at once she was reminded of all the times he had run to her on chubby legs with tears streaming down his face, and all the nonsense he had though up as a child. Monsters under his bed, books growing teeth and attacking him… She smiled sadly, remembering that those problems were easily fixed.

“Oh, nothing,” he said dismissively before wilting under her stare. “My studies?” he tried.

She laughed at his miserable attempt. “It also comforts me to know you could never lie to your mother dearest.”

Loki sighed then, gripping at his knees and staring at the ground between his feet. “I fear that… Asgard will never forget what I am.” He fidgeted with his vambraces, running his fingers along the intricate patterns. 

She pursed her lips then. “You are a prince in the house of Odin, a warrior with many successes under his belt and a handsome young man. How could anyone forget such a thing?”

Her son gave a small, forced smile. “Mother, you flatter me, but that’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant, but that won’t change my mind,” she replied, getting defensive. “Have those lads been giving you trouble again? I would have words with them.”

Loki gave her a look of amusement. “I don’t think Father would appreciate you flattening half his army, please.” He chuckled at the image of Frigga storming through the men’s tents and ripping the covers off to reveal cowering men. “In fact… It isn’t any of them. It’s… Fandral.” He squirmed uncomfortably as he recalled Fandral’s face earlier, so desperate to speak with him and to – what? Apologize? Still, Loki’s hand seemed to tingle when he remembered how hot Fandral’s skin was when he repaired his knuckles.

“Ah yes, the dashing boy who follows you like a lost puppy,” Frigga teased.

Loki rolled his eyes. “To break down my door, perhaps.”

“Merely trying to get your attention,” Frigga suggested.

“He needn’t _break down my door_!” Loki protested petulantly. “Besides, he has been the bane of my existence for as long as I can remember, surely that’s enough attention as it is.”

Frigga chuckled and shook her head. Was her son truly so clueless? “Loki, I think you might need to sit and talk with the boy, his intentions may not be what they seem to be. When I stretch my hands to the birds, how would they know whether I ready to strike them or feed them?”

“Must you always speak in riddles?”

“Where else would you learn it from?”

Loki laughed freely. “Are you suggesting Fandral is trying to feed me?”

“More or less,” she shrugged, smiling at her son, who smiled genuinely in return.

“Well he did bring me breakfast once,” Loki said lazily, remembering how careful Fandral had been in picking his food. Frigga raised an eyebrow at this, though Loki seemed lost in his thoughts. “He brought me apricot and grape jams.”

“How odd,” Frigga remarked. Suddenly Loki remembered that it _was_ odd, and by that logic, _he_ was odd for having such preferences, yet Fandral had adhered to them. Loki shrugged, lifting his finger to welcome a little magpie upon the perch. He smiled when the bird landed, wasting no time to settle down, and chirped once. 

“What do you think about it all, my friend?” he said softly, stroking the satin coat of the baby bird. “Should I speak with Fandral the Odd?”

The bird cocked its head to one side and chirped again before spreading its wings and fluttering away. Frigga smiled at her son, so soft-spoken and gentle in a way that she knew he reserved for her private company. With Odin it was all sharp words and wisdom, with Thor always a brutal wit, but with Frigga, it was his unguarded self and the Loki she always knew.

“You’ve now your mother’s advice and that of a newborn bird, surely that is enough? Give the poor lad a chance, at least he has tried,” she pushed.

“You think he and I are meant to be good friends?”

 _More than that,_ she thought. Instead, she said, “Of course. He’s the only one with wit and tongue to chase yours. Together you could talk all of Asgard’s ears off.” She paused before adding, “In a very logical, strategic way, of course.”

Loki pouted playfully for a fraction, reducing him to a child once more, to which Frigga laughed delightedly. 

“Oh go on,” she encouraged. “There are matters you must attend to.” She mocked a shooing motion, to which Loki placed a hand over his heart.

“So eager to rid me, Mother? You wound me.” Nonetheless, he rose to leave, and Frigga followed suit, pulling her son into an embrace. 

“Do remember to fill me in next time, yes?”

:”Of course, Mother,” Loki replied, tightening their embrace before letting go. He wondered where he might find Fandral now, at such an odd hour of the evening. He went to his chambers to change his attire before his heart leapt in his chest. Fandral sat slouched against his door, eyes closed and breath even. _Had he been here the whole time?_

He wondered what that could possibly mean, but decided to ask questions later. He nudged at Fandral’s boot with his toe, and the blonde stirred before blinking rapidly and pushing himself onto his feet. He ran a hand through his hair and bowed slightly. He opened his mouth to say something but it seemed that words had failed him, and Loki saved him from further embarrassment. 

“Would you like to step inside for a moment?”

Fandral gaped at him, almost unsure if he had heard right, and nodded instead. Loki placed a hand upon the knob, enchantments unravelling at his touch and the door clicked open. He welcomed Fandral in before closing the door again, magic back in place.

Neither of them knew what to say, and the air grew more uncomfortable with the silence that suffocated them, 

“If you’ll excuse me,” Loki said suddenly, stepping to his wardrobe. He removed his armguards to place them atop his desk and tugged the shirt he wore over his head. With his back to Fandral, he wouldn’t notice the other man’s eyes travelling over every inch of taut moonlight skin, rippling with every movement. Loki settled on a plain silk night shirt that he had received years ago. It had been a gift from Sif for a name day too long ago to remember now, and the material was soft and cool like a refreshing breeze. It had grown tight over the years, but he didn’t mind it. He ran his fingers through his hair, flicking his head slightly to let his locks fall in place naturally. 

Fandral was entranced by the whole thing, his eyes unblinking. When Loki turned to look at him once more, he averted his gaze quickly and tapped his foot nervously.

“I suppose I should speak with you,” Loki addressed.

“Of what matters, my friend?”

Loki paused. _Friend_. There it was again, this word that bothered him so much. “ _That._ That is the matter. You claim us friends but I fear I fail to see the sentiment.”

Fandral turned to him confusedly. “Have I done something to wrong you, Loki?”

“Fandral,” Loki all but growled. 

“I assure you, my prince, I have no knowledge of this, I swear to you,” Fandral pleaded, stopping Loki. “I beg you to tell me what I’ve done to hurt you so.”

Loki stared at the man before him, his bright azure eyes showing nothing by honesty. “You challenge me to a duel, yet you showed no desire to face me as you would another warrior,” he spat, his temper quickly burning. “You believe I am not worthy of your swordsmanship? That I am too _argr_ , perhaps?”

Fandral shook his head before Loki was even done speaking. “By Gods, no! No, Loki, of course not.” He inhaled deeply before continuing – how could Loki truly see things like that? “I… I know you are one of the best warriors of Asgard, it matter not whether you use magic or not. I’ve only seen you lose one battle – to Hogun, as I distracted you. I believe you to be one of the best, that is why I challenge you, but I was…”

“You were…?” Loki raised an eyebrow.

“I was distracted,” Fandral finished.

“Distracted.”

“Yes.”

 _Pathetic._ It was a poor excuse, and this time Loki could sense the half-lie waiting to be unfolded. “But you still believe my being argr.”

“No! Especially not that,” Fandral paused to frown in confusion. “Why would you think that?”

“You thought it years ago,” Loki said simply, staring straight ahead out the window to Asgard’s darkening skies.

“When!” Fandral cried, earning a curious look from the prince.

“Alfheim,” he responded. “The feast after Alfheim, when the only thing people called my ergi elsewhere, or some such.” His tone grew icy and bitter.

Fandral could see his jaw muscles clenching in his view of Loki’s profile. “That feast… Is… Is that why you left so early?”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Of course it was. Honestly, did you think I was foolish enough to sit and hear my very name being gossiped in disgrace?” he snapped.

“I… I did not know.”

“Is that so? Is that why you smiled and joined in?”

Fandral suddenly remembered the look on Loki’s face, the widened eyes and slack of mouth, and at once he knew he had been mistaken. “I thought you shocked by the sheer amount of attention!: He leaned forward to place his head in his hands. “Loki, I am so sorry, but you have misunderstood my intentions!” He lifted his head to plead with his eyes. “All these years, you thought I laughed at you?” 

He was met with Loki’s cold stare and shook his head again in disbelief. “I have only ever wanted you to be honoured, I never heard a word of the men slandering your name, otherwise your brother and I – Volstagg too – would have long kicked them to the outskirts of the realm!”

Loki was silent for a moment, contemplating Fandral’s words.

“This isn’t the only thing, is it?” Fandral asked with a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

Loki paused, then slowly shook his head, never once letting his eyes off Fandral in silence.

“Tell me everything.”


	7. Sorting of Sorts

“When we were young, I saw you playing, yet when I asked you if I could join, you ran,” Loki said bitterly, giving in to Fandral’s demand.

Fandral didn’t even have to pause and think, he remembered the day, clear as crystal. “I thought you would run after us, in a simple game of chase!”

“You weren’t playing chase when I approached you,” Loki stated matter-of-factly.

“Well that’s because it was a two player game! Chase is fun, and you were to be our third!” Fandral protested. 

“I thought it was because I was… different. I knew, even at a young age I’d never turn out like Thor, or you.” Loki turned away then, barely able to speak the next words steadily. “It seemed to me that I would never fit into your little group – I’m sure you can imagine how mortified I was the day Thor dragged me along to play with you.”

“Well I for one am glad you are not like Thor,” Fandral joked. “Ah, don’t tell him I said that.” He then smiled softly at the memory of once again meeting Loki. “We wanted you to be our princess,” he remembered. 

Loki stiffened visibly at the mention. “I am _not_ a princess.” He stared at Fandral with a deadly look in his eyes. “And I most certainly do not look like one.”

Fandral actually laughed at the ridiculousness of their conversation. Had Loki _truly_ been offended by his offhand, childish comment? Yet when he saw the hurt on Loki’s face, he realized that he _had_ offended him, and that for some reason, it stuck with him to this day. 

“I didn’t mean… It wasn’t…” 

Loki raised an eyebrow. 

“I only meant that you were…. Pretty,” Fandral said lamely, raking his hand through his hair.

Loki noticed it, knew it was a nervous habit of Fandral’s, though he’d never admit to studying Fandral so closely. He finally saw the pieces fall into place. “And that comment to Sif?”

“By Odin’s beard, I had thought you’d forgotten about that!” Fandral’s small laugh escaped him.

“I never forget,” Loki said seriously. 

For some reason, it spurred Fandral on to laugh even harder. “It was a child’s joke! Honestly Loki, you must forgive me if my words did not come out correctly when we were children, I never had the gift of wielding them as you did.”

Loki couldn’t help the small smile as he felt the weight being lifted off his chest. Again, he gambled. “Perhaps for all the wrongs I have taken to heart were nothing more than a few miscommunications.”

“I do believe so, Loki. I would never mean to harm you,” Fandral said softly, leaning forward to place his hand on top of Loki’s. It was a swirl of fire and ice, their skin in perfect contrast. 

Neither could shake the thought that their hands fit perfectly together, and Loki looked away after some time, though he did not move his hand.

“I… I spent so many years thinking that you would never accept me,” Loki admitted.

Fandral’s heart leapt in his chest. “Me? Accept you?” His amused smile caused Loki to furrow his brow. “Loki, I have wanted nothing more than to be close to you, however _you_ shall accept _me_.”

“Fandral, are you by any chance blind?” Loki asked, too seriously to be taken as such. 

Fandral’s laugh turned his cheeks pink. “My prince, do I seem blind to you? How else could I admire the everyday beauty of Asgard?” he added with a wink. 

It was Loki’s turn to flush, now, making his speech flustered. “I only meant that you were clueless, by gods!” He ignored Fandral’s continuous laughter. “You are just as Thor, as Sif, the rest of Asgard. All fair and golden, built for war and hunting. I will always be the outsider, the castaway of ergi. I do not belong in a group, much less yours. Do you see how I might have thought so all these years?”

It dawned on Fandral that he actually could now see Loki’s thoughts form, solidify, and haunt his mind. He felt great regret for the parts he played in letting his dear friend suffer so. 

“I promise you, Loki. My intentions were never to make you feel as such.” After a pause, Fandral asked. "So, Loki? Can we put all this behind us now, and carry on as... friends?" _And someday more?_

Loki smiled sheepishly. "Yes, of course." After a moment's silence, he added, "And I do apologize for my... assumptions."

"And I must apologize for mine as well," Fandral said sincerely. “And Loki?”

“Hmm?”

“About that comment in regards to you and Sif…”

“Yes?”

“I admit I might have been slightly envious,” Fandral said sheepishly.

Loki rolled his eyes. “By the Norns, Fandral. We were merely discussing _herbs._ You could have swept her off her feet the moment we ceased our conversation without having to embarrass me as well.”

Fandral could barely suppress his giggle. 

“What’s so funny now?” Loki asked impatiently. 

“Loki, are you sure _you_ are not the blind one?” Loki looked almost offended, but Fandral pressed on. “I was not jealous of you, I was jealous of _Sif._ ” The confession was surprisingly lightening, and Fandral felt himself feeling relieved already.

Loki’s mouth gaped open and refused to shut in his surprise. He opened it slightly to speak again, but the infamous Silvertongue had turned to lead.

 _To Hel with it,_ Fandral thought. He already laid his heart out, his words could not be taken back, and he was feeling exceedingly brave.

He leaned forward to kiss Loki, effectively putting Loki’s hanging mouth to good use. The prince reacted immediately, closing his lips slightly to fit against Fandral’s perfectly. It was short, deliciously sweet, and Fandral mourned the loss of contact when he pulled away, not wanting Loki to get the wrong idea. He was here to stay, after all. 

Loki turned away quickly, unwilling to meet Fandral’s eyes right away.

Fandral thought he had perhaps sped things along too quickly, and just barely noticed the setting sun, realizing he had left his friends hanging, once again. "I'm afraid I must get back to --"

"I understand," Loki interrupted. He didn't expect Fandral to attend to him all day. Not that that's what he wanted, of course.

Fandral held out a hand for the prince to shake, which Loki took. It seemed oddly formal after their kiss, and as they shook, Fandral couldn't help but notice how smooth and soft Loki's hands were, while still maintaining such a firm grip. He bowed politely and left Loki's chambers, leaving the dark-haired prince to look down at his hand in a sort of reminiscing. 

He couldn't explain the sudden warmth that had filled him since his talk with Fandral, but he began to think that perhaps his mother was right.

Feeling renewed, he picked up a bound book at random and decided he would put his newfound energy towards perfecting a new spell.

Invisibility. _Well, that could certainly be useful,_ Loki decided, diligently getting to work.

 

\--

 

Fandral would return to the group of just Hogun, Volstagg, and Sif as Thor had taken off just a while ago to check on his brother. 

Thor wasn't the best at understanding everything that happened around him, but he knew one thing for certain: Loki was his to protect. He didn't take too kindly to the comments Einarr and his friends at made, and it had put his paranoia at an all-time high. He had his suspicions that Fandral had also been worried for Loki after hearing the threats of the other warriors, after all, had he not too jumped to Loki's defence? Granted, Thor also had other suspicions about Fandral, but that was nothing to worry about just yet.

He knocked on Loki's door in two sharp raps followed by two softer knocks - a sort of signal that they subconsciously made between the two of them. 

"Come in," came Loki's voice, followed by a small click of the unlocking. "Good evening, brother," he greeted without turning to face him. 

"Aye, good evening," Thor responded. "What complicated new spell are you studying now?" he asked curiously. He knew the signs all too well: the hunch of Loki's back as he scrutinized every word in front of him, the dim light he cast overhead to illuminate the pages, the half-finished foods that lay on the other side of the table. 

"Invisibility."

"Invisibility?" Thor repeated incredulously. He was hesitant to believe that it was even accomplishable. "That sounds... time-consuming," he said lamely.

"I've already mastered it," Loki said simply, still pouring over the same line.

Thor raised a questioning eyebrow. "And may I ask what you're doing to the poor spell book if you've already mastered it?"

"If I'm not mistaken, I believe I can use this spell for other matters as well." Loki turned and gave Thor a cheeky grin then. "Like turning Mjolnir invisible."

Thor laughed at the innocent mischief his brother had just suggested, glad to see that Loki was back to his radiant self. "Well then brother, I encourage you. When I summon her strength, all shall think her force comes from within me!"

Loki then pulled a face as if the idea repulsed him. "Perhaps I'll just use it on Volstagg's dinner instead." He quickly turned back to his readings, leaving Thor to show himself out, relieved that Loki was keeping busy, and that, more importantly, Loki was out of harm's way in the palace quadrants that nobody was authorized to enter save for family.

 

\--

 

The next morning, Fandral woke in the morning as was his routine. He was feeling quite energized, and thought he might have a chance of bringing down Thor. After all, he hadn't been in the practice ring when he had returned from his chat with Loki. 

Just as luck would have it, he encountered Thor on his way to the dining hall, and greeted his friend with a wide smile. "My friend! I missed you by just a hair's length yesterday!"

"Ah, my apologies. I went to rest my mind, and check on my dear brother," Thor replied as they both sat down to face each other.

Fandral felt his heart begin to race, though he kept his voice even. "Oh? And pray, what did Loki have to say?"

"Not much, as Loki usually does. He seemed rather content actually, he studied and jested, and it seems that I have nothing to fear."

Fandral let out an internal sigh of relief. "That is good news, then."

"Yes, indeed. Now speaking of good news, you never did tell us about that maiden you so hurriedly took off to ravish on the morrow of such fair training weather," Thor asked with a smirk.

Fandral panicked, and improvised this "maiden". "Oh, she was splendid, but I'm afraid I don't share such treasures."

"Fandral you dog," Thor joked. "Can you at least assure me she did not resemble a cow?" 

Fandral thought of Loki's golden helm then with curvaceous horns that were deadly yet enticing, and how Thor would constantly tease him by calling him a cow. "Er - no, of course not. She was so stunning; I'd go back for seconds!"

Thor hummed in a sarcastic agreement. They both knew that Fandral's sexual conquests were not as he always claimed - more often than not, Fandral would tire of them after a day. He wondered if there was a single woman in all of Asgard that Fandral had not been infatuated with.

"I'm serious!"

"Yes of course," Thor agreed zealously. "Let me guess - she had _a waterfall of golden hair, her eyes were blue like precious Norn stones that glowed in the moonlight_."

Fandral recognized the words that he had used so often, blushing slightly. He didn't care to admit that he had actually been enraptured by the slick raven-locks and the bright green eyes that dimmed in the light to a deep viridian of his younger brother, so he just nodded and shrugged.

"I knew it! Just as you like," Thor exclaimed.

"Yes, just as I like," Fandral agreed. "And let us not forget the wondrous bosom she carried." Thor clapped Fandral on the arm, and the two warriors ate happily together, exchanging challenges and other jests.

Fandral jumped in surprise at one moment, swearing there was a slight breeze upon his back. He thought that perhaps someone had walked past, but as he glanced around to see, no one was there. Brushing it off, he waited for Thor to finish, now keeping alert of every movement in the hall.

Problem was, you couldn't see something if it was invisible.


	8. Chapter 8

Loki was exhausted, mentally drained and the fatigue spread through his body like slow-dripping venom.

_Fandral. Fandral. Fandral._

What a sport it had become for his _friend’s_ name to run circles in his head. 

They had kissed, had they not?

They had sorted out their miscommunications, had they not?

So logically, should he not give Fandral the chance to speak? And logically, did it not make sense to give Fandral the benefit of the doubt?

Not wanting to be seen or heard, he made his way to the gardens, hoping to find his mother there.

 

\--

 

As Frigga embraced the settling chill of the afternoon turned evening, she felt an odd breeze, not one of the winds.

She whirled around, dagger poised.

A mist appeared and gave way to her younger son, standing perfectly still.

“Loki?” she wondered, hesitantly lowering her weapon.

“Aye, Mother,” Loki greeted, stepping towards her with a smile. 

“You’ve finally snuck up on me?” Frigga half-asked, still in awe. 

He gave her a cheeky grin. “Perhaps I have, Mother.”

Truth be told, it scared Frigga, but it also delighted her. Hey boy had grown to be a powerful sorcerer, beyond the powers of all those who used to tease him. Grasping the prince in a tight hug, she could already sense what their little talk would be about, and wasted no time.

“So tell me, how is Fandral treating you now?”

There was a visible flush from being caught off guard. “Well, you see…” 

When his voice drifted off into vague hand motions, she lifted a curious eyebrow. A mother always knew.

“Was he any good?”

Loki spluttered briefly with half-chewed consonants before burying his head in his hands. “ _Mother_ ,” he whined.

“I was only wondering,” Frigga shrugged. “I’ll take your nonsense as a _yes_.”

“By the Nine…”

“Well if he’s as good as you say, what seems to be the problem?” she asked.

It took Loki a moment to gather his mind, even though he knew Frigga to be so oddly comfortable with the subject he was about to tread on.

“I just feel that… he is not… _I_ am not…” His hand swirled in the air again to try and substitute for his words.

Frigga held his wrists in her hands. “Please, son, you’re starting to make my head spin.” She smiled at her own jest. “Come now, child, you have always been gifted with words, has this boy got you tongue-tied all of a sudden?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Ah, that’s more like it,” she said warmly, letting his wrists go at last, taking a moment to admire the vambraces that her child wore consistently, their novelty in the gleaming gold even though she had given them to him so long ago. 

“Mother, I’m afraid I don’t quite understand the workings of this child’s play,” Loki said bluntly.

“Love is not child’s play, my dear.”

“ _Love?!_ ” Loki squawked. “That’s quite an escalation, Mother. I said nothing of love.”

“And you did not need to,” Frigga replied. “What kind of a mother would I be if I did not know when my talented liar of a son was keeping the truth from me?”

“Honestly Mother, I know not what I feel, but it surely can’t be love,” Loki made a face. It was true he had never experienced these feelings before, nor did he come running to Frigga as Thor once did with whines of “Mother, she has all but grasped my heart!” 

He never understood what Thor meant, when his brute of a brother would confide in him such matters of how pretty one’s eyes were or how curvaceous one was. He had just never seen the appeal. 

“A chance, Loki, that is all you need to give,” Frigga said, pulling Loki out of his thoughts.

“But he is… a man,” Loki said simply. It wasn’t unheard of that the men of Asgard would take another to bed, after all, women did not partake in hunting trips or marching of the troops, which could take too long a time for any man to keep himself company. But those relationships ceased the moment you entered Asgard again, home of the golden women and blushing maidens.

Loki watched Frigga’s gentle blue eyes, waiting for him to say more. “Are you saying you wouldn’t mind if I should stain our name with such a sinful act?”

“Your happiness is what is important, Loki.”

“And how can I be happy when I do not take a maiden as Thor will? Or produce children of my own? How will I find happiness when Asgard looks at me with no other thoughts other than that I am argr?” He hadn’t realize the dull aching in his chest until now. 

“There is much I should tell you, Loki… But you must promise to hear me all the way through, and know that this was to protect you, and nothing more.” 

Loki stared into Frigga’s eyes, now wide and glistening with the oncoming tears. Her tone had been gentle, yet serious, in a way that frightened Loki. 

“Mother?” he asked in a frightened voice. “What is it?” 

“The Casket of Ancient Winters was not the only thing your father took from the temple that day,” Frigga said, though the insinuation was lost upon Loki. “He was knee deep in Jotun blood, but there was a child, an innocent, beautiful little child that had wailed for attention, and he knew that deep in his heart he could not leave him there.”

The truth hit Loki like a stone wall, and he instantly went rigid. _No this can’t be._

Frigga clasped his hand between both of hers and leaned forward to look her son in the eyes. “When he picked you up, your wailing had ceased and he knew he had to bring you home. You fell asleep the moment I took you into my arms, and Loki, my beautiful child, you have blessed us.”

“Mother… Lady Frigga -- ” he corrected, for he felt wrong to call her mother now.

“--Don’t you dare!” Frigga said sternly, her mouth set to a scowl. “You will always be my son, and I will always be your mother.”

He gulped loudly as the facts settled into his head.

“Why have you waited so long to tell me?”

“We only wanted what was best for you,” his teary-eyed mother explained. “We didn’t want you to feel any different.”

“This… this skin then?”

“It is a glamour that Odin has brought out. From the moment he touched you, your skin had turned pink like the baby of the Aesir, as you reacted to the Allfather’s touch,” Frigga smiled.

“So… I am… I can be… I can change?”

“Yes, but I know not how.” Seeing Loki’s downcast eyes, she whispered fervently to him. “You will always be my beautiful boy, Loki, nothing will change that.” 

His mind was swirling with the possibilities; his emotions were being spun around like a carousel. He was shocked, to say the least, he was frightened, he was angry, relieved, hurt – what?  
He just needed to get away. He needed to breathe. He needed to scream, to fight, to cry, to explode – something. 

“I need to go,” he said abruptly.

“Please, Loki –”

“I’ll be fine,” he said. Seeing the hurt and tears that threatened to cascade down her face, he added tenderly, “—Mother.”

Grudgingly, she let him go, watching as tense shoulders vanished into a stream of mist. 

 

\--

 

For reasons he couldn’t explain, he wound up at the tavern on the outskirts of town. Who even came to these places? He had thrown an old cloak on, letting the hood drop low, just above his eyes. If he tilted his head just right, he could hide his distinguishable eyes and his slender form was bulked by the heavy coat.

The men were loud, drowning out the voices in his head; the smell was intoxicating and dizzying, sending his mind in a spiral. The ale was strong and his mouth felt bitter after every sip.

He had chosen the right place, or he thinks in his haze of whirlwind emotions and the comfortable buzzing in his head. It’s been at least three rounds and Loki’s starting to feel the heat creep into his cheeks, but he’s not nearly drunk enough and he feels particularly punishing tonight, and so he orders another round, much to the owner’s pleasure. 

It had reached the point where he thought perhaps he should stop, because he was still a prince, after all. At least, that’s what Asgard would think. Would they know, eventually? Did Thor know all along?

As if he summoned the devil, he heard his brother’s unmistakable booming voice from behind him. He didn’t dare turn around, and so he was forced to sit for another moment – another round. Hogun’s throaty growl came next, followed by Volstagg’s enthusiastic chuckling. It was inevitable that Fandral’s voice, a voice that sounded so lovely and out of place here, cut through the air with a shrill laugh at something Volstagg had said.

“Come my friends, the first round is on me!” Volstagg said cheerily. 

As they found a table to sit by, Loki found that he wasn’t sure if he could leave without being noticed. He sat quietly, nursing his drink, and decided to would safer once he was sure they were out of his way. What he didn’t expect was that Volstagg would order them all round, and himself three.

“You think you can really handle all that?” Fandral teased, and just to prove him wrong, Volstagg downed them one after another before slamming a glad on the ground and barking. “Another!”

“Another _three_ , he means,” Fandral edged. Hogun gave a grunt of disapproval.

Loki had just about had enough of the tavern – he remembered now why he never frequented these things – and was about to leave when he found that his feet didn’t understand the concept of solid ground. His legs shook slightly as he slipped off the stool, but his whole body wavered. 

“Ya better hang in there a little while b’fore ya start movin’,” the bartender advised. Half-heartedly, he sat down again. His mind sorted itself out, he could once again understand that the table was in fact parallel to the ground and not slanted, and wished desperately for a cool breeze. 

“You never learn,” Hogun mumbled, as Loki heard the awful sounds of somebody retching. There was a collective grumble after a sick splattering sound, to which Thor apologized for. The bartender left Loki with one last wary glance before making his to clean up whatever mess Volstagg made. The thought made Loki queasy, and he placed his head in his folded arms upon the table. 

The opening of the door let a nice breeze in, airing the smell of stale mead and other things out. Loki relished it, closing his eyes and finding it almost impossible to open them again. The alcohol-induced sleep was beckoning to him, and he was more than willing to comply. 

“Well Fandral, it looks like it is just you and I once more,” Thor said above the conversation of the other tavern dwellers. 

“Yes, yes, I hope you don’t tire of my company too soon, it seems Volstagg hasn’t quite learned his lesson yet.”

“Yet you continue to goad him.”

“Tis fun!” Fandral exclaimed, adding a charming laugh.

Thor harrumphed in an amused manner. “It is more attention than you pay to your maidens.”

“Ah, yes,” Fandral agreed. Loki hadn’t been intentionally eavesdropping, but with Volstagg now gone in Hogun’s care, it had become significantly more quiet.

Fandral continued. “I am no bound man, no woman shall hold me for more than a night’s time!” 

Thor gave Fandral a light punch. “And what about a man, then?”

Loki could feel himself getting extremely uncomfortable now, wishing he could block out this conversation while wishing he could hear it better over the crowd.

“And what of a man?” Fandral asked as if to side-step the question.

“Maidens you have had come and go, but not a single one has questioned you. My thought is that perhaps a man would capture your interest more – an intelligent one, that is.”

Loki’s lip twitched at the implication. Was Thor…? It was impossible for him to know, they had never spoken of this before.

“Er, I’m afraid I don’t understand –”

“I see the way you look at my brother,” Thor warned. 

It was if the world had stopped. Loki’s eyes nearly fell out of his head. _Thor, what are you doing?! What are you doing, what are you doing, whatareyoudoingwhatwhatWHAT._

“Thor!” Fandral exclaimed. “I swear to you, I have no ill intentions! I was not looking at him… at him in _that_ way in which you suggest, I swear!” 

Thor chuckled then. “Fandral, do calm yourself. I am not as blind as most people think.” He winked at Fandral, who sat in utter confusion. Loki’s face mirrored the same expression, wondering if this was headed where Thor was suggesting. 

“I apologize, my dear friend. I will of course turn my attention elsewhere,” Fandral said in a voice almost too low for Loki to hear. He could almost feel Fandral’s heart dropping, or was it his own? 

“Are you suggesting my brother is not good enough for you?” Thor growled, slamming his empty mug on the table and leaning in dangerously close to Fandral.

Fandral raised his hands in a surrendering motion. “I’m afraid I no longer understand where this conversation has gone. I thought you would not want me to feel this way about your brother, you protect him so dearly?”

“Against the men who want nothing more than to defile him, yes,” Thor grumbled. “My brother deserves more than that, he deserves the best that Asgard can give him.”

There were tears in Loki’s eyes. His brother had always been his closest companion, it is true, but to hear such heartfelt words in his honour… It frightened Loki that much more. What if Thor found him repulsive if he revealed his Jotun nature? 

“Then I’m afraid I’m no better suitor,” Fandral admitted sadly. 

“You are wrong, my friend.”

“You do not understand,” Fandral explained. “For the entirety of our lives I have hurt him, albeit unknowingly. I have made him think things untrue, made him feel shamed and alone as he shouldn’t…”

“Forgiveness is one of Loki’s rarest habits, but he has been known to bring it out every now and then,” Thor assured. “Believe me when I say that I wish nothing more than for you two to be happy. You are, after all, my dearest friends and the two closest people to me. I shall try to appeal to Loki’s heart as I have done to yours, in your honour.

Without hesitation, Fandral nodded. “Aye, he has indeed held my attention or some time now. I tried to think differently, but it is not easy.”

Thor raised a questioning eyebrow. 

“You spoke of the truth earlier, when you claimed I was merely bored of the dullness. Loki is… Loki is so gifted, intelligent beyond his tutors even and he is, if you will allow, quite stunning.” It took Fandral a moment to glance at Thor to make sure he wouldn’t be enraged by the comment. “He is quick with his words, quick to defend himself, and if you do recall, quick to defend others as well.”

Thor hummed at the memory. “Hm, Alfheim.” 

“What a treacherous day. Had it not been for Loki, I’m afraid we might not be here today, enjoying this fine mead.”

“You know, it was in during that moment that I knew.”

“Which moment?” Fandral asked, curious as to how much Thor had picked up on.

“The moment he had finished healing us, and you caught him just before he fell. The look in your eyes, Fandral, it was one I had never seen before.”

Loki’s mind was sent spinning again and he cursed the alcohol that coursed through his veins so he could make more sense of this conversation.

“And as we reached Asgard, you fled to the healing rooms faster than even Sleipnir would have.”

“I was worried,” Fandral huffed. 

“Indeed, and I thank you for that. It was noble of you to stay with him until I arrived.”

It was too hot for Loki’s brain to function properly – his damned hood was suffocating, his entire face felt on fire, and he desperately wanted to leave. All this time he had thought Thor was the one to bring him back and stay with him, now learning that it was indeed Fandral? Had he cared for him all this time? 

“I must know one thing, though,” Thor added, turning serious.

“Of course.”

“Are your feelings for my brother true? Or will I find him alone one day, hurt and dishonoured?” The glare Thor was giving Fandral was more threatening than Fandral had ever seen, even on their hunts in their battles. 

“Thor,” he said, placing a hand upon the thunderer’s shoulders and the other above his breast. “I wish for nothing more than to be happily with Loki, if he should accept me.”

“Then I suggest you tell the little twit just that. He’s rather dense for such an intelligent creature.” Loki almost huffed out loud, _that brute!_

Fandral let out a relieved laugh at his friend’s words and smile. “I believe we need some more mead,” Fandral proclaimed, still digesting everything Thor had said. 

“Indeed.”

With that, one of them got up from the table, but the footsteps seemed too light to be Thor’s. Loki went rigid and ducked his head a little lower. He would _not_ be caught here! Especially not after that conversation. 

“Excuse me, sir,” Fandral said, and Loki shuffled as far as possible, his drink very nearly dropping off the end of the council. After a pause where Loki imagined Fandral to be scrutinizing him, the blonde asked. “Have I seen you before?”

Fear spurred Loki’s next actions. He got up, shook his head and placed a hand on the counter. The money slammed against the wood and Loki spun to leave, his back to Fandral the whole while. 

The evening air was crisp and cool against Loki’s skin that had been practically burning and he threw the hood off immediately, welcoming the refreshing breeze. His hands were shaking from the pure rush of adrenaline and emotion, though he credited the ale as well. 

_Fandral…_

It was like the name could not escape his thoughts no matter how hard he tried to push it out - _Fandral,_ his mind screamed over and over again. _All this time…_

“Loki?” 

Loki turned to face – and he struggled to admit this to himself – the man he might just be in love with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SWEAR THINGS ARE GOING TO START HAPPENING NOW. 
> 
> Sorry it's taking so long to update! <3 I beg for your forgiveness.


	9. Truth

“Loki,” Fandral repeated, when he had not answered.

“I – I…” Loki stammered. He wasn’t ready for this conversation, his words were still sliding themselves into place and the sight of Fandral, so endearing as he shivered against the cold and falling snow of the outskirts.

“I take it you heard everything then?”

Loki could not decipher the tone of Fandral’s voice, but he feared it might be of bitter origin. “Fandral, I did not mean to listen it, I just – I didn’t want any of you to see me there. I planned to slip out the moment the opportunity presented itself –”

In two short steps, Fandral now stood in front of Loki, staring him the eyes as they were equal in height.

“Then?”

“Then what?” 

“You heard everything, then you have formed a thought, and I wish to know what it is,” Fandral held his gaze steady.

“I…” It was though his mind was blank, sheet as white as the snow that fell around them. 

Just this once, perhaps he could let his actions speak for his words. He dropped his hood down entirely, taking the last step to come within an inch of Fandral. Too familiar with the procedure, Fandral responded accordingly, and held an arm out to wrap around Loki, pressing their bodies together, greedy for Loki’s cloak to block out some of the wind. There was only a slight pause before their lips met, for their eyes to meet first in a clash of blue-as-sky and green-as-tree.

Feather light, their soft lips grazed against one another, their warmth in their breaths, and Fandral smiled when he felt the tip of Loki’s nose, cold as the snow itself, brushed past his cheek. 

“Hmm, perhaps I don’t mind when you are at a loss for words.”

Loki almost scoffed at this. “ _No one_ likes when I am _not_ at a loss for words.”

“You are so very wrong,” Fandral said with a smile. “I like to hear you speak.”

“You are a strange breed of men, then.”

Fandral chuckled at that. “See! Just like that.”

Loki immediately relaxed, having found his words returned to him – he liked this about Fandral, that the conversation was always light, easy, something of a easy banter that he could easily keep up with, and as a bonus, Fandral never took offense or threatened to rip his tongue out. 

Seeing Fandral’s breathe come out in clouds of dissipating fog, he unclasped his cloak and tossed it around Fandral’s shoulders. It fit perfectly, and Fandral tugged it around himself with an upturned eyebrow. “Won’t you be cold?”

In the truth that he had received today, he now knew the reason for why he was never affected by chill, rare as it was in Asgard. It didn’t feel like the right time or place, so he merely waved it off. “Do you see what the mead has done to me?” he asked gesturing to his cheeks, which he was sure were still pink as blossoms. “I swear I could cook a meal on my face.”

Fandral’s laugh was another thing Loki liked about him; he always smiled widely, showing a perfect pearly row of teeth, and the sound was just _carefree_. 

“Would you like to come back with me?” 

“Of course,” Fandral said without hesitation. “Though perhaps I should tell Thor where I’ve gone off to.”

“Mm, yes, he has a tendency to throttle those who make him wait… Though he makes no effort to be punctual himself,” he grumbled the latter. 

Fandral brushed Loki’s cheek affectionately with his thumb before murmuring “stay here”. It only took him a matter of seconds, barely enough time for Loki to calm his breathing and empty his mind.

“How has my brother taken to this?” Loki asked curiously. 

_“Know this Fandral, just because of our talk today, do not think it would wise to take my brother to bed this night,” Thor threatened with a half-hearted rolling of his fist. Half-hearted Thor was still a very intimidating Thor._

“Ah, he was quite… encouraging,” Fandral assured him. “Are you sure you’re not cold?” he asked, taking Loki’s sub-temperate hand in his own.

“I’m perfectly fine,” Loki lied. His stomach wasn’t sitting properly with the guilt of keeping the truth from Fandral bearing down. They walked in a comfortable silence back to the palace, making a trail of lovers’ footprints in the snow.

 

\--

 

“Brrrr,” Fandral shook as if to shake the very cold out of him. He folded the cloak neatly to give back to Loki, who instructed him to have a warm bath in his private chambers.

At Fandral’s upraised eyebrow, Loki rolled his eyes. “I won’t peek, I promise.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t mind if you did,” Fandral said with a wink before he could help it.

He ducked in the door before hearing Loki’s retort, and took his time filling the tub and investigating Loki’s various soaps and oils. Outside, he heard the shuffling of Loki cleaning his already tidy room and performing some sort of magic. He liked that Loki took pride in being tidy, that he always carried himself like royalty beyond his title, and the way he always smelled like refreshing water from the springs and a trace of the breeze, as if he were made of ice and cold. 

The thought alone made him shudder, realizing the water had gone cool and he had spent a long amount of time just thinking about Loki. He excitedly drained the tub and wrapped himself in the large towel that he dried himself with. When he opened the door, he saw Loki, surrounded by scraps of parchment in his own writing and focusing on a goblet that he had no doubt stolen from the kitchen for his late run of honeyed milk. He had changed into simple night clothes, his body clean and hair still damp. Fandral wondered how magically taking a shower compared to having a real bath, but figured he would ask Loki later. For now, he was much too interested in Loki’s current project. 

“What are you doing?” he asked curiously.

Loki glanced at him before staring back at the goblet. “Er, I have, um, clothes for you,” he said pointing to the stack of clothes on the corner of his grand bed. He dressed while still staring at Loki’s form, shoulders hunched over one particular note, one hand in his hair, twirling it distractedly. 

Now that he wasn’t completely bare save for a towel, Loki seemed much more comfortable talking to him. “I’m trying to project a spell I learned for myself. Granted, I can’t tell if it will work but the fundamentals of the spell should allow it to…”

All of a sudden, the goblet turned transparent. 

Fandral was impressed, but Loki was not yet satisfied. “Hmmm, maybe if I….”

The goblet disappeared completely. Loki’s eyes widened, and Fandral could only assume that this was Loki’s goal. However, when Loki swiped a hand through the air where the goblet stood and came up empty, he frowned.

“Cursed thing,” he muttered, summoning it back somehow. Fandral watched intently as Loki tried the spell again. It disappeared once more, but as Loki swiped the air again, his hand clasped around the air. His smile widened as he handed it out to Fandral, who looked confused. He outstretched his hand, and almost dropped the now invisible goblet in his hand.

“I – what – _Loki!_ ” he said, astonished. 

“I figure it might come in handy later on,” he said, taking the object back and making it reappear, his eyelids drooping. He was tired from today’s events, from exerting his magic, and the alcohol was still pulling at his mind to sleep. 

“Hey, are you alright?” The friendly lull of Fandral’s voice was soothing, and Loki felt his eyelids droops even further. He yawned before blinking himself awake to Fandral smiling at him. 

“Of course, just a little tired is all.”

“Been a long day?”

 _Finding out you’re adopted, that you’re the spawn of the monsters that mothers tell their children about at night…_ “You could say that,” Loki settled for.

“Come then, let’s get you to bed,” Fandral said, rising from his seat and helping Loki out of his. It wasn’t that he needed the help, but he rather liked how tender Fandral’s touch was, different from the way his family handled him and almost completely contrasting how everyone else in Asgard treated him. 

The soft mattress and lush sheets were over-inviting and Loki had to fight against the pleas of his body to doze off. He noticed that the bed did in fact not dip as he expected it would, and that Fandral was gathering his dirtied clothing from earlier on.

“Will you not stay?” he asked. He wasn’t quite sure if he had masked the disappointment, but he found he did not care either way. 

Fandral’s look was rather pained. “Well… I didn’t know if you would be comfortable with… moving along so fast.”

Loki snickered. “Fandral, I am asking you to stay the night to sleep so you need not trek across the grounds in the night chill, not for you to take me on the throne in Odin’s presence or some such.”

Fandral actually spluttered at the latter half, which Loki found incredibly entertaining. “I promise I won’t touch,” Loki joked.

“Maybe I wouldn’t mind if you did,” Fandral replied yet again, though he did settle himself into the bed. It was fit for a prince of Asgard of course, and the smooth silk of the sheets felt incredibly against his skin. 

Loki stifled another yawn as he shuffled over to accommodate Fandral, though it was not difficult. The both of them together only took up half the bed. Suddenly, Fandral felt Loki’s toes like popsicles against his feet and almost jumped at the surprise. 

“Honestly, how have you not turned blue from being so frozen?” he joked. There was an immediate reaction from Loki; he had retracted himself and flew away from Fandral as if he had been burned, and did not make a noise, his whole body rigid.

“Loki?” Fandral asked confused. “Did I say something wrong?”

Loki shook his head, but Fandral didn’t believe it for a second. Despite the resistance, Fandral still loomed over Loki, now curled in on himself, only concern in his eyes.

“Loki, what is it?”

Another shake of the Loki’s head. Instead of being upset and leaving him like Loki originally thought he would, he curled his arms around the prince, holding the cool body towards him. 

“My, you’re cold.”

“Because I’m not like any of you!” Loki growled, pushing Fandral away and sitting upright on the bed. 

Startled, Fandral stared at him with a gaping mouth. “I don’t see a problem in that… I rather like that about you.”

He only intensified the shaking of his head, his curls whipping out around him. “You don’t understand!” he nearly shouted.

“Then explain it to me,” Fandral said gently but firmly, placing his hand around Loki’s hands that hand come up to cradle his head. 

“I can’t,” Loki whispers in a defeated tone after dropping his hands to reveal red-rimmed eyes on the verge of tears. 

“Then how am I ever to understand?” Fandral asked gently, letting his wrists go completely. “Please Loki, I have only just begun to figure you out. No more miscommunications, agreed?” 

“This is no miscommunication,” Loki said darkly. “It is a truth that ought to never be revealed.”

“My, my, that sounds serious,” Fandral said lightly, trying to lift the mood. “You’re in luck, for I would never reveal something so dark and dangerous.” He settled in on his side, head propped up on his shoulders to show Loki that he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

“I’m… afraid,” Loki finally admitted, now leaning back against the headboard. “I am already an outsider, and this only cast me further. You would not be so foolish as to stay around me if you knew.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Fandral said determinedly, taking one of Loki’s hands in his own. 

Loki drew in a deep breath and chose his words carefully. “I’m not of the same… origin as my brother. In fact, we’re not related by blood at all. I suppose I knew all along what with how different I am, though I doubt Thor has thought about it much, if at all. I’m… not Aesir.”

He let Fandral ask the questions that so obviously swam in those blue eyes that the moonlight how highlighted. “If you are not Aeisr… If you are not a child of Frigga and Odin…. Do you know who your true birth parents are?”

There was a lump that hindered Loki from answering right away. _How would Fandral react if he knew I was the son of the very monsters he was born and raised to fear? To hate?_ “I don’t know. I haven’t asked.”

“Do you at least know where your homeland lies?” Fandral asked, though his prying wasn’t so much rude as thoughtful, and the softness in his voice was testament to that. 

_This is it._ His voice was barely a whisper as he uttered the single, terrifying word of truth. “Jotunheim.”

He closed his eyes, waiting for Fandral to leap out of the bed in disgust.

“Huh,” Fandral commented. “Now I understand why you’re so cool to touch.” As if to further his point, he let go of Loki’s hand only to wrap his arm around the prince’s waist. 

Loki looked down at the man in awe, and utter confusion. “Fandral…?”

“Hmm?” The man responded nonchalantly, running his cheek along Loki’s side. 

“I… Did you even hear me?”

“Aye, of course. You know how much I love listening to you speak – did you really think I wouldn’t listen?”

“Then…”

Sighing, Fandral tugged at Loki’s arm, signalling him to settle under the covers with him. When they lay down face-to face, Fandral placed a firm arm around Loki’s waist and stared into the curious emerald eyes. 

“Then nothing,” Fandral said firmly with a light shrug of his shoulder that he wasn’t lying on. “You are Loki, whether you are Aesir or Jotun, elf or dwarf.”

“But I’m a monster,” Loki stated blandly, eyes darting to look at his pillows instead of facing Fandral.

“No. No, you’re not, you hear me?” Fandral insisted, bringing his other hand to tilt Loki’s chin up. He pressed a light kiss to Loki’s lips. “You are no monster, and I would never have you believe such lies again.”

“I don’t understand…. We, as children, were always taught that – ”

“We were taught a lot of things, to keep us out of trouble and nothing more,” Fandral said. “Don’t tell me you still think Idunn’s garden is guarded by baby bilgesnipes ready to take out your ankles?”

“Well, no, but –”

“Or that if you drink honeyed mead before bed, you’ll wake up with a stomach ache?”

“Well I’ve quite proven that to be false, but that still –”

“Or perhaps that if you wandered too far from the palace walls, the Great Taloned-Falcons will pluck you right off the ground and use you as nesting?”

“No, but those are not –”

“Exactly,” Fandral shushed Loki with a finger placed upon the prince’s lips. “No, you do not believe them because you grow up to make conclusions for yourself. They’re merely tales that our parents spin to keep us out of trouble as youth is all – so that we don’t tamper with Idunn’s apples, or steal from the kitchens, or wander too far from home. The tales of Frost Giants and Jotunheim are no different, our parents wanted to keep us from travelling too far.”

Fandral’s words had a powerful calming effect on Loki, and he so desperately wanted to believe Fandral. The man had made a terribly good point, after all. 

“What if it was because we – well _you_ as an Aesir, are meant to stay away from Frost Giants?”

“We all break rules,” Fandral grinned, motioning to the goblet that Loki had tested on earlier, obviously filled with honeyed mead that he’d had before bed. 

“You are a foolish, foolish man,” Loki finally settled on. 

“Perhaps, but as long as you can still accept me despite my foolishness, I’m going to settle right in," he said defiantly. He curled up even closer to Loki, tucking his head beneath Loki’s chin. 

As Loki brought his hand up to card through the wavy blonde hair, he held Fandral until the man’s breathing had slowed and evened to indicate he was sleeping. Never in a thousand lifetimes had he expected it to be so easy for him to speak the truth – and never in another thousand lifetimes did he expect to feel so strongly for someone else, let alone have them feel the same way about him. Was this love? Could he take the risk of letting someone in? He exhaled, his mind tiring from the overthinking. 

“I love you,” he whispered into the night air, feeling the fluttering in his chest from a newfound freedom from both his burdens as he finally closed his eyes and dreamt of snow.


	10. Chapter 10

_“Know this Fandral, just because of our talk today, do not think it would wise to take my brother to bed this night.”_

_Oops_ , Fandral thought as he blinked his eyes open.

“Tickles,” Loki slurred, referring to the flutter of Fandral’s eyelashes against his bare chest. 

“What did we do last night?” Fandral asked, confused at Loki’s sudden lack of clothing. He very, very clearly remembered going to bed clothed. He looked down at his own sleeping clothes and looked back up. His head was still tucked underneath Loki’s chin, so he took the moment to admire the long column of pale skin, watching for the steady pulse throbbing. 

Loki chuckled. “Nothing. I got too warm with your insufferably hot body clinging to me like so.”

Fandral hummed happily at his, unwilling to move his arm that snaked around Loki and instead squeezing as hard as he dared until Loki slapped him playfully on the shoulder. 

“And we spoke, if you remember,” Loki added softly.

Fandral remembered – and Loki’s fear stuck out in his memory.

“I meant every word I said,” Fandral reassured him, shifting to nuzzle Loki affectionately.

He took Loki’s silence for contemplation and heard the distant sounds of warriors cheering before realizing that he might have just missed his morning spar.

“You’re not late you know,” Loki said lazily, unraveling himself from the blonde. He looked at Fandral and the worried look upon his face.

He smiled at Fandral. “Go on, it’s not like I won’t be here when you get back.” To reinforce his point he pointed at Fandral and the plain night clothes had transformed into his armour, every detail and scratch in place, the other hand waved toward his table to summon his books and scrolls.

“And now, let’s see how well I have practiced,” Loki said, concentrating as he had last night. Fandral only felt a tingle and watched as an amused smile spread across Loki’s face.

“Wha-“ he started to say before looking down at his body – or lack of. “By gods!” he cried. 

Loki hummed, smiling proudly at his work. “I always told Thor this could be useful,” he said in a tone that suggested he would certainly brag later on.

Fandral was glad he was invisible so that Loki would not see him cringe at the mention of his friend. “Speaking of Thor –”

“Yes, yes, run along,” Loki playfully shooed him. 

“So eager to rid me?” Fandral mockingly teased. 

Loki rolled his eyes. “I rather my brother not throttle you, is all. You can shamelessly throw yourself at me later,” he joked.

Well, it was _meant_ as a joke. But Fandral’s wicked grin would say otherwise, could Loki see it.

“You have my word I shall do just that,” he quipped. “Now give me a kiss.”

“ _I can’t see you_ ,” Loki said, squinting his eyes as if to say _you idiot._

Fandral found it so endearing he grabbed Loki’s face with both hands, and ignoring the widening of green eyes and kissed Loki as if his life depended on it. 

When he let go, Loki’s face was a brilliant shade of pink as he sorted his clothes and went to open the door.

“I’ll see you later,” Fandral promised.

“Yes, I’ll _see_ you later as well.”

One more laugh, one more kiss, and off Fandral went.

“My prince, can I get anything for you?” the servant asked as his door opened. Fandral slipped by without a sound, his light footsteps masked by Loki’s request for sweet bread and jam.

“Strawberry or grape, my prince?”

“ _Apple and apricot_ ,” Loki all but seethed before closing his door rather loudly.

Fandral smiled to himself before walking briskly through the walls, feeling a slight tingle before seeing that his hand was visible to him again. Up ahead, the training grounds seemed busier than usual, and as Thor greeted him with nothing but a friendly smile, he truly felt that he had a chance with Loki now. Swinging his sword seemed effortless today, and even as he faced his last opponent – Thor – he won gracefully, tip of the blade to his friend’s throat before he claimed to yield. 

“You’ve a little more hop in your step than usual,” Volstagg commented. Fandral bowed as he accepted the compliment.

“Yes, I have not seen such a boost from you in a while,” Sif added, upset that she had been defeated so easily.

Still offering no explanation, Fandral merely sheathed his sword and smiled, feeling completely on top of his game. Even Thor offered his praise, though with a knowing smile.

Gods, Fandral was really starting to hate that smirk. As the other warriors returned their borrowed weapons, he brace himself from the inevitable speech.

“Fandral.”

“We didn’t do anything!” he shouted in his defense. “Honestly. We talked. That’s all.”

Thor laughed so hard he doubled over to clutch his sides. He wiped his eyes before placing a large arm around Fandral’s shoulders. “Funny Fandral,” he said, poking Fandral’s chest with a finger. “No wonder my brother is taken with you.”

In that moment, Fandral forgave Thor for laughing at him and possibly bruising his chest. 

“My friend, this is the best I have seen you at in quite some time, I am happy for you,” Thor concluded. “As long as my brother is happy as well?” he added with a slightly warning tone.

“I left him in good spirits,” Fandral said, remembering Loki’s look of shock when he had kissed him goodbye. “But Thor…”

“ _Yes?_ ” he said, a slight rumble of thunder coming from above.

“I think perhaps… You should speak with Loki as well,” Fandral said cautiously. “It’s not that we didn’t enjoy each other’s company, but I believe he just needs his brother right now.”

“I will always be there for him, and he has not sought me out. Fandral, what are you hiding?”

“Thor, do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Then believe me when I say that this will be his story to tell,” Fandral said with a sad smile. He remembered how hard it was for Loki to tell him, he couldn’t imagine how hard it would be for Loki to tell Thor. Suddenly he felt guilty. What if Loki wasn’t ready to tell his brother yet? “Perhaps tomorrow, you should join him for breakfast,” Fandral suggested, hoping to buy Loki some time.

Thor looked like he would question Fandral further, but in the end agreed with a nod of his head. “Yes, I think I shall do just that.”

They exchanged a nod of farewell before Fandral caught his attention again.

“Yes?”

“You should get him some apple and apricot jam.”

“Apple and apricot?”

“Yes. They’re uh… They’re Loki’s favourites.”

Thor raised an eyebrow, and Fandral knew it wasn’t Thor’s fault for not knowing. They were hardly at meals at the same time, their routines and schedules just simply didn’t allow it.

“I will remember that,” Thor said before walking off.

Fandral breathed a sigh of relief now that it was over. He had the utmost respect for both brothers, but he knew his reputation was a strong indication of just how… _heartless_ and _cruel_ he could be, according to Sif. He intended to prove everyone wrong. Loki was the forbidden fruit that he didn’t just want to take a bite of. No, he intended to keep Loki for as long as the prince would allow.

He smiled at the thought of Loki’s smiling face, and remembering his certain promise to throw himself at a certain someone, he set off on his mission. 

\--

“Oh gods, Loki!” Fandral heard a cry from the other side of the door. He dropped his hand that had been raised to knock upon it.

“Hang in there,” came Loki’s voice.

“I – I can’t!”

“Yes, yes can. Open your eyes,” Loki’s voice was encouraging, and elated.

“I... I can’t…. I need to… _Ah_!” she shrieked. 

There was a small shatter, shuffling and rustling, the woman’s voice had broken off with a whine.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s alright,” Loki said softly. “The first time is always the hardest.”

She giggled. “You honour me by taking me so, I am grateful that you have been my first.”

“There’s no need to sell yourself short, dear girl. I would be happy to do this again.”

“Oh thank you, _my Lord,_ ” she said. “Does your offer still stand to allow my sister come with me next time?”

Fandral thought he was going to be sick. _Happy to do this again?_ and where did she get off on calling him _‘my lord’_. He thought nothing, yet everything, of it and returned to the sparring ring, where nobody now was with the looming skies. His mind reeled with the impossibility of it. Loki. 

Fandral’s heart had never endured such a thing.

\--

They looked at the mess they created on Loki’s floor, the vial cracked and potion leaking from the pool.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Amora apologized again as she watched Loki wave his hands to clean the mess and contain it for disposal.

“Do not fret, the ways of seiðr and spá are not easy, and they are not meant for every wielder. Perhaps your strengths lie in runic magic, or galdr. One only knows from practicing.”

Amora nodded and contemplated Loki’s words. “Thank you again for tutoring me in such ways. My mother is not fond of the gift, and I suspect Lorelei will start to flare as well in short time.”

“As I’ve said, you and your sister are more than welcome to seek me out for such matters. It would be a shame for magical talent to go to waste,” he said. “Now let me see your hands.”

They were reddened and bloodied from holding her magic and losing control of it. The task of boiling the potion by summoning your own flame had taken Loki himself almost four nights to master, and he smiled at the girl’s determination to hold on for so long. 

“It was an incredibly valiant effort,” he commented, noticing the girl’s smile widen on her face, causing her bright ivy eyes to crinkle. 

“Thank you, my Lord,” she said again.

“Please, you needn’t give such a high title.”

“Master, then.”

He accepted it. “You are going to be my star pupil, Amora.”

She beamed before her face turned to confusion. “I’m your only pupil…”

Loki gave a small hum before she playfully conjured an orb of water to splash at him. He caught it, but still commented on her good form. With a roll of her eyes, she left with a promise to be back in a few days’ time with her sister in tow. 

When the mess had sorted itself out, his mind now longer occupied by teaching, he began to wonder when Fandral would return – and when he didn’t, Loki began to wonder why he ever entrusted Fandral with his secret in the first place.

\--

The next day, his mood had not improved by much. He had even gone so far as to stay in bed for the sunrise, unwilling to drag his body down to the dining room. There came a knock, and his heart began to pound. He got up and sorted his dishevelled hair, swallowing thickly in preparation for the confrontation.

Instead, he was greeted by none other than Thor, food in hand. He looked skeptically at it before spotting his preferred jams and cursed Fandral a hundred times over.

“Brother, this is a pleasant surprise,” Loki said. “Come in.”

“I wished to speak with you today,” Thor declared.

“Is something the matter?”

“Quite possibly, but I wouldn’t know.”

Loki’s mind had already sped ahead, his temper flaring. “Oh?”

“I… I am concerned about you is all.”

“And why would you need to be concerned?”

“As your brother… Well, you know that I am very… protective of you.”

Loki couldn’t help but smile, remember how Thor spoke of him in the taverns that night. “Yes, Thor, I’m aware.”

“And I feel as though… I would like you to know that even though I protect you so, it does not always mean that I have necessarily been the best brother I could –”

“Stop,” Loki said, holding out a hand. “Thor, your words are clumsy but I know where this is headed. Believe me when I say this – you are the best… brother, I could have ever asked for.” His words caught in his throat as he twisted them. _A brother to ask for, not a bother by bond,_ he thought sadly.

“Then, I shall get to the point,” Thor said, pulling Loki from his thoughts. “You and I have not truly talked in some time now, will you tell me about what mischief you have been up to? Have you perfected your spell?”

“Oh yes,” Loki said, though he would have been more delighted if everything would stop leading back to _Fandral._ The spell that he had perfected to mask Fandral and smuggle him out of his rooms. He grabbed for his foods that Fandral no doubt told Thor to bring – oh.

“Did Fandral send you?” he asked sharply.

“Fandral? No, why?” Thor lied. It might have been convincing to anyone else, but Loki had grown up with Thor for years, and words were his expertise. 

“Do not lie to me,” Loki glared.

Thor sighed heavily before shifting on Loki’s face slightly. “Yes, Fandral mentioned I should speak with you about something, but he refused to tell me anything. I grew worried is all.”

Loki clenched his jaw shut, teeth grinding against each other. _Betrayal_ , Loki thought. 

“I told him to keep his mouth shut. He even promised he wouldn’t say a word,” Loki spat.

“And he hasn’t,” Thor reminded him. “He said it was your story to tell, and I am here now to listen.”

There was a twinge of hurt in Thor’s words, and as Loki would understand, he too, had played the role of a traitor. He recognized that Fandral knowing something so important before Thor seemed as though Loki no longer favoured his brother, which was far from the truth after all. He apologized for his snappy behaviour and took a seat beside Thor. 

“Do you truly wish to hear this terrible burden of mine?”

“Of course,” Thor said earnestly.

“We might never be the same again. You would risk this brotherhood as such?”

Thor thought about it for a moment, weighing his options – his first thought that their brotherhood was too dear for him to lose. His second, however, was that their brotherhood was too dear for it to break, and he told Loki so.

With a deep breath, Loki relived his horror once again, once again bracing himself for the moment that he would lose yet another person he held on to so dearly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRERF. Only two chapters left (I THINK) but they will be a bit lengthier as I FINALLY wrap this up. I promise, no more miscommunications (oh my GOD)
> 
> I love you all <3


	11. "I do"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OMFG THERE'S SMUT. IT ONLY TOOK ELEVEN CHAPTERS, SWEET BABY ODIN.
> 
> And yes, there's a lot of the mending stuff because I didn't want anyone to be like BUT WHAT ABOUT THAT THING THAT HAPPENED EARLIER 
> 
> so now that I've duct-taped everything together, the next chapter shall be the final part, and I can already see it growing to be way too many words, but the scene is unfolding and it wouldn't be fair to leave you guys hanging and  
> TL; DR: all this boring stuff needed to be said for the purpose of the next chapter.
> 
> enojy xo

Thor had held him until his tears had dried, though he had tried his hardest not to cry at all. 

“You are still my brother.”

They were the kindest words Loki had ever hoped to have received from him, his worries finally put to rest.

“Thank you, Thor.”

They settled back into their normal banter, the gossip of two brothers and closest friends, and Loki found not a trace of repulsion or disgust from Thor. 

 

“So what of you and Fandral now?”

“You hunger for gossip almost as much as Mother,” he teased. Though, he did relent and admit, “Thor, I haven’t a clue.”

“You two are the craftiest pair I have ever had the misfortune of meeting, I’m sure the two of you can figure something out.” The cock of his eyebrow and tight grin convinced Loki he was telling the truth. 

It brought a small smile to Loki’s face. “I hope so.”

“You two are quite the match,” Thor reassured. “If Fandral does not see it, I will personally subject him to a round at the sparring ring with Mjolnir.”

Loki had never felt so grateful for Thor in his life, and told him just so. “Our brotherhood is one that would endure even the likes of Ragnarok, and for that, I am glad.”

 

\--

 

It would be several days before Fandral and Loki would meet again, but by then, Loki had grown agitated and annoyed. 

Fandral, still hurt and perplexed by Loki’s absence, tried his hardest to stay away.

But, Loki was the flame, and he dutifully played the moth. 

He didn’t know if he could even be held responsible for his actions with his mind buzzing so loudly, but somehow he found himself walking over to Loki as if it were an everyday routine. Loki sat alone, with an untouched bowl of grapes.

“You know, you’re very pretty.”

Loki lifted his head and raised an eyebrow towards the cheeky blonde, who was resting his chin upon his hand to lean across the table. He wore a practiced smile, the one he used with all his other love interests – thought conquests was probably a better word for them.

“Pretty,” Loki stated blandly, unimpressed with Fandral’s opening line. Had women really fallen for this?

“No, no, no, not pretty,” Fandral insisted. “Very pretty.”

Loki rolled his eyes. He returned to the book in his lap, letting his sleek black hair tumble and fall against his face. Not a sentence later did he feel Fandral’s fingers tucking the loose strands behind his ear again.

Looking up once more with furrowed brows, but at least he was amused this time.

“It was blocking my view of your face. Your very pretty face, might I add.”

“Have you no other words in your vocabulary, dear Fandral?”

“Not when you render me so speechless, fair prince.”

Loki couldn’t help but flick a corner of his mouth into a smile. They hadn’t exactly discussed where they were in terms of their feelings towards one another and what that would mean for them.

“Hm, perhaps you would do better to train your tongue, then.”

“Perhaps you could teach me,” Fandral said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I only tutor those I believe worthy of my time, who would grow to be as great as I.”

“So what you are saying is that you tutor no one,” Fandral complimented slyly with a wide grin full of perfect teeth.

This time, Loki didn’t mind letting Fandral seeing the smile, though he pretended to start reading again to hide the flush coming to his cheeks. Fandral smiled gleefully, knowing he had captured Loki’s attention – flattery really did get you far.

“Just one lesson with the great master?” Fandral pleaded. When Loki looked up at him hesitantly, he clapped his hands together and bowed deeply before looking up with wide blue eyes that held nothing but fake innocence. Loki let out a laugh that made Fandral’s knees weak – oh what I wouldn’t do to hear that sound every day.

 _Just one lesson_. It was words like those that made Loki’s heart ache – Fandral only ever came with a one-time deal. But really, even Loki’s self-control had its limits. He craved Fandral, had missed him from the morning he had left. 

“Come, Fandral. I think you may indeed be worthy of a lesson,” Loki winked, and Fandral’s heart shot into his throat. There was nothing innocent about the tone of Loki’s voice, and Fandral’s pants were already beginning to feel too tight.

\--

Before the door to Loki’s chambers could even close, Fandral’s cock twitched beneath his breeches after having watched the prince’s hips sway as he walked regally through the halls.

“Care to tell me why you’ve taken an interest in following me everywhere I go instead of just talking to me?” Loki asked, taking off his excess leathers to strip down to his tunic. There was nothing sexual in the way he did it. He was merely getting comfortable, but it still made Fandral flush with desire.

“Wouldn’t want to dampen your fun, though you’ve really been missing out,” Fandral quipped, feeling oddly brave with his rush of adrenaline, stepping slowly towards to dark-haired god.

Loki had never lain with a man before, and a part of him was shamed that he would ever give himself to Fandral as a first – Fandral, wasn’t he the type of person to snake his way in and leave before you woke the next morning after such a deed. It would be a surprise if he remembered your name or spared you a second glance, and Loki didn’t want to be a part of that - he wanted to be something more, but he just couldn’t bring himself to ask it of Fandral. The man had made it clear what he wanted, hadn’t he?

“And would I suddenly stop having a second shadow?” Loki asked calmly even though he was anxious for the answer, nervous that Fandral was just inches away. The question came off more annoyed than how Loki truly felt, but he didn’t dare allow Fandral to see the truth.

“If you wished,” Fandral whispered, his breath tickling Loki’s lips, even if it made his heart ache just to utter those words. He never wanted to leave Loki, not even after what he had heard.

Their kiss was soft and gentle, just like the first one they shared, Fandral holding Loki like was made of glass. Fandral’s fingers were flirting with the edge of Loki’s shirt, unsure for the first time. Loki guided Fandral’s hands upwards, and that was all the encouragement Fandral needed. Their tops were taken off in sweet haste in the only moments their lips didn’t meet as they stumbled towards the bed. When Fandral untied the laces of Loki’s breeches, long fingers clamped around his wrists. The nervousness was obvious without words, the panic in Loki’s eyes was endearing to Fandral. He planted a small kiss on the prince’s forehead in reassurance, and moved to undress himself first. He let Loki’s eyes wander across his body before slowly moving for the half-undone pants again. This time, Loki let him, his breath hitched as they were drawn down his mile long legs.

Fandral’s appreciative hands ran down the creamy skin of his thighs, making him shudder in excitement. “You’re beautiful like this,” Fandral whispered, his hands roaming all over the smooth muscles and pale expanse of skin, kissing his collar, chest, abdomen and thighs. Loki didn’t have a response this time, and let out small noises whenever Fandral’s beard tickled him. Before long, he started to welcome Fandral’s body on top of his own, his deft fingers gliding over the pink skin where the sun had burned him and secretly counting the freckles against honeyed skin. He swept his thumb over his favourite ones - the four specks across the man’s right hip bone.

Past feeling vulnerable, Fandral leaned downward to kiss Loki again, easing his body lower as they both shivered at the full skin-on-skin contact. When one hand brought their erections together, Loki inhaled sharply and grasped Fandral’s shoulders. The man hushed him lovingly, stroking them and slicking them with their pre-come. 

“Have any oil?” he asked calmly. Loki nearly faltered as he conjured a vial from his desk, to which Fandral smiled at with amusement. “I love sorcery.”

Loki, nervous as he was, let out a completely unguarded and unnaturally beautiful laugh, which Fandral himself couldn’t help joining in slightly. Things between them moved with much more ease now, Fandral slicking both of them while they exchanged heated kisses and nips. When he removed his hand, Loki bit his bottom lip uncertainly.

“I have never…” but his words died in his throat when Fandral shifted from kneeling between Loki’s legs to straddle his hips instead, his fingers behind him to prepare himself.

“My prince, did you really think that I would have you so?”

He prepared to slide himself down by teasing his entrance with Loki’s member, and upon first penetration, Loki’s small “oh” made Fandral’s cock twitch. When he finally managed to sit lightly on Loki’s pelvis, he panted harshly from his efforts, delighted with the way Loki’s hands trembled slightly as they were placed on his hips, losing himself in the pleasure and falling into place with Fandral’s movement. Fandral slowly and steadily rocked back and forth, staring down into Loki’s flushed face and revelling in the sweet sounds that escaped Loki’s slack mouth. Truth be told he burned slightly with Loki’s girth, large than he had taken before, but he revelled in the sweet pain. He let his own moans fall as Loki canted his hips upward in a steady pace.

“Fandral – I’m –“ Loki breathed.

Fandral had already been teetering on the edge himself, his rhythm slightly sporadic from his wavering thighs.

“I want to feel it, Loki. It’s okay,” he coaxed. Loki’s slender fingers encircled the manhood trapped between them and tugged in time to the thrusting, which sent Fandral’s head spinning. He gripped the pillow beside Loki’s head hard as his drawn-out groan filled the room. Loki came with a small cry, his toes curled and thighs tensing. As Fandral rolled off, they panted heavily together, Fandral being the first to catch his breath.

“So?”

“So what?” Loki asked tiredly. 

“Do you wish to stop having a second shadow?”

Loki’s lips were pulled in a tight smile. “I should think not.”

“Is this forgiveness I am hearing?” Fandral said with a hopeful smile, turning to prop himself up on an elbow just as he had when he spent his first night with Loki. 

“Perhaps,” Loki said playfully. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure. Was it forgiveness? Was there something to even forgive? They had never established what they were, and by that right, Fandral had the right to do whatever he should please, right?

“I am… sorry for not coming back as I had promised,” Fandral admitted quietly.

“Why didn’t you?” Loki asked sharply, still hurt. “Why did you never come back?”

“I did!” Fandral exclaimed, defending himself. 

“But you – ”

“I came back, but I couldn’t bring myself to knock… Not with _that woman_ here,” Fandral admitted. 

“ _What?_ ”

Fandral pulled a face before clearing his throat to speak in a high falsetto, “You honour me by taking me so, I am grateful that you have been my first, _my Lord_.”

Loki burst into a fit of giggles that would’ve angered Fandral had it not been so charming. 

Baffled, Fandral said coolly, “Oh, please do indulge me in what has caused you to _throw yourself in such a fit_.”

True to his word, Loki had clutched his stomach with one hand, the other bringing a blanket up to wipe away his tears. The tip of his tongue held between his teeth wiggled with the effort of not laughing so loudly. He then gave up, and promptly started rolling around with laughter.

“You look like a child,” Fandral muttered (through his incredibly wide smile at the sight). 

“And you are acting like one!” Loki cried in amusement. “Amora is my _student_. I was teaching her – the first one to give her a lesson, in fact.”

Fandral blinked, dumbfounded. “Student?”

“She has shown signs of flaring, when a magic-wielder does not learn to control their powers it runs rampant and puts everyone in danger. She came to me out of fear, and I agreed to help her learn.”

“… And her sister –”

“—Has also shown signs of potential magic,” Loki finished for him.

“Oh,” Fandral said dumbly, which only made Loki laugh harder. 

“Come here, you fool,” Loki said, grabbing Fandral with renewed energy and planting a kiss upon the man’s lips. 

“We’re not very good at this, are we?” Fandral chuckled nervously.

“No, we are not,” Loki agreed. Though Fandral knew it to be the truth, it still hurt him to hear Loki say so. The prince then let on a coy smile. “But, this is what we are, and I have no qualms about this.” 

Elated, Fandral wrapped his arms around the lithe figure and rolled them over so that Loki looked down upon him, dark strands falling around his face, startling green eyes looking down. He was genuinely happy, Fandral could see, with the way his eyes smiled and his cheeks grew slightly pink.

“You are beautiful like this,” Fandral said before he could stop himself. There was sadness in Loki’s eyes as he said this, and he could have cursed himself for momentarily forgetting. “You are beautiful… in any form.”

“You don’t know that,” Loki said softly, though the edge in his voice might have been reserved for a snap if he was not so fond of the man he spoke to. 

“Can I see?” Fandral asked desperately. He was, of course, intrigued, and it was only natural. Out of all his friends, he was by far the more curious one, and he would never pass up the chance to catch a glimpse of something as exotic as Loki’s Jotun form.

“Fandral, please, I don’t think that’s a good idea, I’m not even entirely sure if I can –” he said, shooting into a sitting position.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” Fandral said soothingly. “I didn’t mean to pressure you, I was merely thinking that perhaps you would allow me to see you in such a beautiful skin.”

“You have no idea of what you speak,” Loki said firmly, still believe he would look like a monster. Though he had never seen it – never even tried it, for he was sure of what the stories had said were true. Sharp teeth like fangs, eyes that resembled blood and horrid markings upon their skin like scars from a sharp knife – Loki had no desire to ever see it, even if he was certain he could unweave the magic that held his Aesir form together. 

“We’ve been over this, my prince,” Fandral practically purred, using the title as means to coddle Loki. “I find your nature exotic, and quite honestly, I would love to see a frost giant up close.” He trailed his fingers down Loki’s side, tracing the sharp bone of his pelvis. It earned a delighted shudder from the raven-haired god, and he scooted impossibly closer to Fandral.

“Can you promise me one thing?”

“Of course.”

“If I show you… You cannot react. Or let me see. I’m not ready.”

Fandral slowly nodded his consent. Loki drew a deep breath, mind detecting the weaving of his glamour. It was odd, how undetectable it was when he wasn’t looking, but he figured he owed that to centuries of wearing this second skin. It was a simple task now, drawing it off knowing he could summon it back. True to his word, Fandral made no sound, though if Loki opened his eyes he would see a man gaping in wonder – a man so taken by the cerulean skin and intricate patterns that he couldn’t speak, even if he had the words to.

“Loki.”

“Yes?”

“Please, open your eyes.”

Loki swallowed thickly. _Blood, blood, the horrible monsters’ eyes will look like blood, those savage beasts…_ He tentatively cracked them open a slit, focusing on the crumpled bed sheets between them.

“Now look at me,” Fandral said as softly as his fingers tipped Loki’s chin up. The prince flinched at the prospect of burning his lover, but Fandral’s hands refused to break contact. There was no point in stopping the inevitable, the ball of snow had started rolling, and Loki thought he might as well see it to the very end. His lids rose slowly to reveal his eyes, and waited for Fandral to comment on them. 

“Gods, how did I get so lucky?” Fandral chuckled, pulling Loki in for a kiss. Loki had never prepared for such a delightful reaction, never prepared for how sweet and warm their kiss would be. When they broke apart, Fandral blinked twice before making an ‘o’ with his mouth and letting forth a visible, frosty breath. Loki froze before he saw Fandral burst into a violent fit of laughter, and promptly joined him. The two laughed until their stomachs hurt and tears blurred their vision, and Loki pinned this the exact moment he felt comfortable in this new skin. 

Fandral traced the markings with his fingertips (and then his tongue) and Loki shivered in pure delight (but then again, it’s not like he was cold).

\--

Over the next few days, Fandral had somehow talked him into slipping off his Aesir form more and more often, and Loki suspected it was a long-term plan to make Loki comfortable. Truth be told, it was working, but he wouldn’t let Fandral know that just yet. After all, Loki loved the special treatment Fandral gave him like this, when he still thought that Loki needed reassurance. 

“You are the most exquisite thing in all of Asgard – no! In all the nine realms!” Fandral insisted with kisses upon Loki’s thighs, leaving a trail of blazing sweetness that made Loki’s toes curl. “You are enjoying this, aren’t you, my prince?” 

“Your beard tickles,” Loki insisted. 

“You love it,” he replied, purposely rubbing his hair-covered chin along the smooth skin of Loki’s leg. Loki kicked Fandral in the side lightly. “And at the very least, you won’t get too mad because you love me,” Fandral added with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Loki’s lean legs wrapped around Fandral and pulled him upward where Loki would ensnarl Fandral in a heated kiss, his arms tangling around the man, hands raking through his short blonde hair. 

“I do,” Loki whispered.

Fandral looked almost confused for a moment, and Loki quickly added, “Love you. I do love you.”

 _Oh_ , Fandral thought. “And I love you as well, my prince,” Fandral said, though his mind was already wandering to an elaborate place where he could just see Loki uttering those two words under other circumstances.

“Fandral?”

“Mmm, yes?” he said, nibbling at Loki’s neck.

“Take me,” he whispered so quietly that Fandral almost thought he misheard him. But when he looked into Loki’s eyes there was a passionate, raw hunger and Fandral knew for certain he had indeed just hear the prince speak forbidden words.

“But you are – ”

“—A bastard prince.”

“A prince of the Odin house, treated and respected as such,” Fandral corrected, 

“I want you, Fandral. I want you to have me and I vow that if you continue to be this incorrigible so help me Odin, I will tie you down and slowly, torturously –“

Fandral’s hand smelled of Loki’s shampoo as he clamped his hand down on the offending mouth. “Loki, I would never degrade you –“

“As I have you?” Loki shot defiantly. 

“You are a prince, and more importantly I wanted you, and I wanted to be taken by you.”

“Then return me the favour if you claim to love me so,” Loki said, trapping Fandral. 

He didn’t see the proper choice, of course. More than anything, he wanted to prove his love, to have Loki beneath him and around him, to pleasure the prince in a new way, but who was he to defile such a treasure? Deep inside, he knew exactly what had to be done.

“Loki?”

“Yes?”

“Marry me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONE MORE CHAPTER TO GO. QP_#)%@UTW$ROSFD
> 
>  
> 
> I can't thank you all enough for reading/following so far. I hope my last chapter wraps everything up rather nicely and that I've added a good addition to the tiny little Fandral/Loki fandom. Due to midterms, it may be a while until I post it, but I swear I'm keeping all of you in mind.  
> Definitely will be writing more of this pairing in the future, as the response on this story has been amazing! I'm so happy my first Fandral/Loki (Fandroki?) turned out like this! xo all my love!


	12. Forever Hold Your Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AS PROMISED: a very lengthy chapter update to wrap things up.
> 
> Fandral and Loki do the only thing they have to do left, and I am left crying uncontrollably because it's time for me to let go of this fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I am BAWLING. I can't believe it's over. Thank you all SO much. It's been a pleasure. <3  
> \- PART DIVISION. You’ll run into a little split of the characters because I just wanted to give you two sides of the story, and I enjoyed writing them  
> \- Remember it’s an AU! I’ve kept as much of the movieverse, comicverse, and mythology as possible but there will be certain things that I changed for my purposes  
> \- This wedding got SO out of hand, I’m SO SORRY– and yes, it’s completely made up. I literally have no knowledge of wedding procedures, especially in Asgard, but I thought this might be fun, to show you a little more characterization of my characters  
> I really, really like badass men. I’m sorry.  
> \- Lots of Norse bits in here. Most of them are just bad words, and given the context you can sort of make out what they mean, BUT I will put a key at the end notes. :D  
> \- SEX HAPPENS IN THIS CHAPTER. Please scroll down a bit to skip the explicit stuff. The safe parts begin with the line “Exhausted, they exchanged silence in lieu of vows, but the message was as it always had been – “ so you can Ctrl+ F that if you want.  
> \- Without further ado, I present to you, my twelfth, and final chapter in this roller-coaster ride of a fic, and I thank all of you for reading this far. I can’t express how much I appreciate your support and feedback! <3

If Fandral was to be honest with himself, he would admit that it hadn’t exactly been a shining moment. It was far from graceful and grand as he had imagined it in his mind, but his patience had gotten the better of him after all. 

He immediately regretted spilling his thoughts without filtering them – Loki was a _prince_ , who was to be courted, his hand to be won through trials in front of the entire kingdom. The stunned look upon Loki’s face did little to settle his heart, racing at top speed to catch up with his mind, to try and prevent him from saying anything else. He averted his gaze right away, cursing himself for being so premature.

The burn of his face was only emphasized as Loki’s winter-kissed fingers gently pulled his face up once more, and he found himself staring into endless pools of dazzling scarlet.

“You truly wish to?”

Whatever Fandral had expected, it hadn’t been that. In his mind there was confusion, perhaps hurt, maybe even a laugh or hesitancy in the form of Loki biting his bottom lip – but not this ease that rolled off Loki’s tongue, the search for affirmation as if his proposition could become a reality.

Nonetheless, he answered. “Yes, of course.” The question was preposterous – Loki had been his acquaintance, comrade-in-arms, saviour, friend and lover, Loki was meant to be his prince – his king, even, his everything and forever. He was the beat his heart couldn’t afford to skip, and the very thought that Loki would choose to stay with him – it was double the pleasure of biting into Idunn’s apples, life and renewal flushing through his system.

“Then… I accept,” Loki whispered softly, the promise sealed with the meeting of their lips and tongues, hands and body. 

Fandral eagerly pressed himself into the acceptance the ‘yes’ that he so desperately yearned for, fingers dancing upon Loki’s naked skin, trailing up the goosebumps. 

He planted a trail of kisses from the sensitive spot behind Loki’s ear to his collarbones, turning Loki over to wrap his legs around the cerulean beauty.

Loki’s earlier plea became a future promise as he settled between Fandral’s legs. All it took was a dashing smile from the man underneath him for his mind to go into overdrive, his skin crawling with anticipation. He couldn’t describe what he had felt the moment Fandral proposed – the tingling more powerful than his magic, his heart constricting before bursting like the stars ready to be born anew. He hadn’t cried – he willed the tears back but sensed them shining in his eyes regardless. He cursed his tongue for failing when he had been more than ready to spill a litany of vows and promises for an ever-lasting love – but now, now he had a chance to show Fandral everything he had meant to say.

“I am yours,” he murmured against Fandral’s lips, hands planted on the pillow beneath the blonde hair. 

“And I am yours,” came Fandral’s purred in the shell of Loki’s ear. His hands traced the patterns over the raisings of Loki’s skin before creating new ones all the way Loki’s body, fingers brushing the defined raise of Loki’s hips bones, following the dip of the V. 

The gentle tickle made him shiver above Fandral, his cock twitching with keenness. Their wanton movements stirred them to hardness, flesh upon flesh in blissful rhythm. He slid along Fandral’s length, the apex of his manhood leaking as he did so. He inhaled sharply when Fandral’s hand wrapped around him, guiding him, urging him to join them. 

“Fandral,” his voice came out as barely a whisper, the syllables melting upon his tongue as Fandral’s body slowly surrounded him in a delicious tight, heat. He inched forward, delicately, enjoying the shortness of Fandral’s breath and small gasps, hips nudging him onward nonetheless. 

They made love – and they knew this was so for many, many reasons.  
They made love in the way that Loki learned to appreciate his Jotun form through Fandral, even now as they moved together in nothing but pure bliss. They made love in the way that Loki learned to be wordless around Fandral, wordless _because_ of Fandral, and couldn’t bring himself to mind.  
They made love in the way that Fandral’s hands couldn’t let go and his body never lay still around Loki. They made love in the way that Fandral didn’t dare blink in fear that he would miss even a second of Loki’s ethereal and emerald beauty, of Loki’s deep ocean water and scarlet exquisiteness.  
It was with Fandral that Loki let himself go, hair dishevelled and eyes glimmering in the light with a ravenous hunger. It was with Loki that Fandral surrendered, letting that wall of boasting and confidence crumble, because with Loki, Fandral was not a man with a conquest – no, he was a man in love.

So, so deeply in love.

He wrapped an arm around Loki’s neck, bringing the god’s lips crashing down upon his in a passionate scrimmage as if to prove who loved the other more.

It would only end in stalemate, both panting hard against each other’s lips as Loki’s hips delivered every thrust with urgency. To make Fandral _feel_.

“Loki… Loki…” Fandral chanted as he gripped the base of Loki’s neck, dark hair caught between his fingers, bringing Loki as close as possible, his other hand upon the curve of Loki’s back. He marvelled at the feel of the perfect muscles beneath his fingertips, gradually moving faster as Loki picked up his pace.

“You feel amazing,” Loki murmured into Fandral’s neck, nipping at the sweating flesh and licking his lips of the salty taste.

In response, Fandral clenched his muscles, shuddering as Loki’s groan travelled down the entire length of his body. Every sound, movement, or look Loki produced always had this effect on him, and he strived for more. “Harder,” he breathed into Loki’s ear.

“By _Gods_ ,” Loki cursed, lifting himself out of Fandral’s close grip and sitting back on his heels, dragging Fandral closer yet. He lifted Fandral’s lower body up into his lap to drive himself deeper, downward into the man, causing Fandral to spew a litany of curses and scramble with his limbs to tell Loki never to stop. His vision was almost blurred with his eyes watering from pure ecstasy, his mind lazily spinning. 

“Turn over,” Loki almost growled, hands guiding Fandral’s quivering thighs as he withdrew, smiling when Fandral moaned at the loss. Loki lovingly held Fandral’s hips as the blonde braced his arms against the mattress, letting his head drop, shoulders rising and dropping as he caught his breath. He turned to toss Loki a look over his shoulder and met Loki’s crimson eyes, filled with lust. He reached back to cup Loki’s head, kissing him and pulling at Loki’s lips with his teeth, letting Loki feel a pleasant sting from the bites. Loki pressed forward gently to let Fandral brace himself again as he inserted the thick head of his manhood back into Fandral’s waiting entrance. He sheathed himself completely in one thrust, eliciting a yelp from the man underneath. 

Fandral gave a drawn-out groan as Loki pulled himself almost all the way out and cried out when Loki slammed himself back in. He set a brutal pace for them, knowing that Fandral revelled in this just as much as he did. Fandral rocked on his hands and knees to meet Loki’s ruthless pace, muffling his screams with the bedsheet that he had gathered in his clenched fists. He felt the sting of Loki’s teeth breaking skin and hissed in pleasure, mouth immediately going slack against the bed. Itching for something to claw, to bite, he writhed beneath Loki, twisted to get a part of Loki; he dragged an arm forward to clamp down on the muscular flesh, causing Loki to fall onto him, chest remarkably cool against his blazing body.

“Fandral,” he growled in the man’s ear, pulling them both up so that Loki rested upon his haunches, one arm wrapped around Fandral’s waist, the other hand teasing Fandral’s cock slowly. 

“ _Ngh_!” Fandral barely supressed a whine as he threw his head back to rest upon Loki’s shoulders, feeling the Jotun’s heartbeat upon his back. He keened when Loki held him closer still, pinching playfully at his nipples, running a finger across his freckles and along his sensitive skin. He placed both his hands upon Loki’s thighs behind him to steady himself. He rose slowly, legs quivering from the stupor, and Loki’s hand left Fandral’s cock to grip the man’s hip instead, bringing it down harshly.

“Oh gods!” he cried out as Loki hit his prostate spot-on. He saw stars as red as Loki’s eyes, howling as he came, to Loki’s delight, without a hand upon his cock. He spilled across their laps and sheets, clenching as hard as he could to bring Loki with him. “Come – come for me,” he panted, eyes closed and fingers gripping Loki’s thighs hard enough to bruise. 

Loki let them both tumble into the sheets, rolling them until Fandral lay flat beneath him, the pressure around his cock unbearable. His rhythm faltered as he came, collapsing beside Fandral immediately.

Exhausted, they exchanged silence in lieu of vows, but the message was as it always had been – 

_I am yours._

Fandral smoothed the hair out of Loki’s face, fingertips grazing across the raised markings of Loki’s skin. The god closed his eyes, enjoying the smooth, small pads of warmth across his skin, and pulled the man closer to him. Catching their breaths with the scent of their coupling, they stayed together a while longer, dreaming along the way.

 

\--

 

Fandral was first to awake, eyes opening to alabaster skin, still marked from their passionate love-making. He smiled into Loki’s chest, placing a soft kiss before slowly easing himself out of the god’s arms. Loki shifted, let out a long breath before settling and becoming still save for this silent snoring once more. Fandral tiptoed as he dressed, and left a note for Loki upon his table. Though he hated to leave his love, there were pressing matters to attend to, and he needed to seek out Thor immediately. 

He dabbled himself with a hint of mint oil before quietly unlocking the door. Upon seeing nobody, he dashed as quickly as he dared before a servant came along to scold him. He immediately found himself upon Thor’s quarters and knocked hastily. Luckily, Thor answered with a great smile and clap on the shoulder.

“My friend! I have not seen you in quite some time now, come in!”

Fandral graciously accepted, stepping into a familiarly messy space. His possessions were mainly upon the floor, seeing as they were large and of unordinary shape. Where Loki had books, Thor had tusks and furs, and where Loki had tables and shelves, Thor had decorative armour and weaponry. Though Loki also had weapons and Thor also had shelves, the two were so vastly different it wasn’t hard to believe they were not related by blood.

“What brings you here today?” Thor asked his friend, waving an arm to gesture Fandral to sit.

All the better, as Fandral was feeling rather light-headed from the excitement. “Well, Thor, I have some very important matters to discuss.”

“This sounds quite serious,” Thor noted warily. Fandral, of course, was not usually the one to be in such a state, but rather left most of this mood to Hogun. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more serious in my life.”

“Do speak, good Fandral,” Thor nodded, taking a seat across Fandral, resting his chin upon his hand, leaning onto his knees.

“Thank you,” Fandral managed before taking several deep, calming breaths. “You see… I wish to speak to you about Loki.”

Thor straightened slowly, tugging at the fabric upon his knees. “I see. And what is the matter between you and Loki?”

“Nothing is the matter,” Fandral smiled in an assuring manner. “But rather, that itself is the matter.”

“I see you’ve learned to speak like him,” Thor said lightly.

“Thor… I know it is not conventional, nor is it smiled upon, but Loki and I... We feel that this is right.”

Thor nodded his agreement, renewing Fandral’s confidence. “It is hard for me to explain, but Loki… Loki makes me happy, and I would give anything in the realms to return that favour.”

“I believe you already have, Fandral,” Thor said genuinely. “He is my brother, and he has been quite happy these days. I wish you two the best.”

Fandral’s ears perked up like a joyful puppy’s. “Does that mean we have your blessing?”

Thor laughed loudly. “You two are a perfect match, I wish you two nothing but eternal happiness.”

Fandral laughed too, out of giddy joy. “My friend… I am tremendously happy to hear that. This is what I had hoped to talk to you about, see – I wish to spend the rest of my time with Loki, and I… I would like to make it official.”

“You mean to wed him them?”

“Yes.”

There wasn’t even a pause before Thor stood up to shake Fandral’s hand. “You have my blessings.”

“I thank you,” Fandral returned, gripping Thor’s hand tightly and pulling the thunderer closer for an embrace as well.

“However, I should remind you that I am the easiest of my family to convince,” Thor teased wickedly, chuckling as Fandral’s face fell when he clued in. “Good luck!”

Fandral groaned. He had a lot speech-rehearsing to do.

\--

Upon entering the dining hall, his eyes immediately darted to Loki’s seat at the head table, knees going weak at the smile he received from the prince. He smiled back before Volstagg jostled him from his daydream of dazzling emerald eyes.

“Fandral! We had begun to think you had been captured by the dwarves for being so swindling!” 

“Ha! You wish it could only be so easy to rid me!” he retaliated. He took his seat with the warriors as usual, waiting through Odin’s recount of Asgard’s day and toast. Goblet raised, he met Loki’s eyes as he tipped it forward. Going to take a drink of it, his eyes widened at the glorious taste upon his lips. It was unlike any ale he’d ever had, rich and deep. Of course, he knew immediately who had been behind the scheme and caught a mischievous glint in Loki’s eyes before winking subtly and turning his attention to his meal. 

At one point he also caught Thor’s eye, who hadn’t missed a single thing, and looked to his friends across the table and beside him. 

“Friends…. I have something to tell you.”

 

\--

 

Truthfully, he didn’t actually think that getting a chance to meet with Odin and Frigga would be easy. When he had heard that they would open private counsel for him that very evening, he suspected Thor had something to do with it.

Now, staring up at the royal king and queen, father and mother, Fandral truly began to feel nervous. Frigga’s kind smile was the only thing that helped him find his tongue. 

“Allfather, Lady Frigga,” he addressed, bowing upon his knee with a fist across his heart.

“Rise, child,” Odin said.

Doing as he was told, he once again braced himself. “I wish to speak to you about Loki today.”

“What have you to say about my son?” Odin asked, almost nervously. Loki was always getting himself into shenanigans; he had a reason to be wary, didn’t he?

“Well, as I’m sure you know, Loki and I have… gotten very close.”

The insinuation was not lost upon Odin, who shifted rather uncomfortably while Frigga beamed. “Yes, how are you two doing?”

Enjoying the ease that Frigga put him in, he answered. “Amazingly well, thank you. He’s truly one of a kind.”

“And thank the Norns for that,” Odin joked. 

It was going much more smoothly than Fandral had planned, and he plowed forth. “The matter is, I believe I love your son – truly. It occurred to me that perhaps I had felt this way from the moment we were introduced but he has always had my attention, and I hope that I may prove to be a loyal, faithful partner.”

The two exchanged a private look before looking down to Fandral again.

Odin, had questions of course. “Fandral, my son is indeed one of a kind, a prince of many rights, a… A….” 

“A frost giant?” Fandral asked boldly.

Odin gaped a little before looking at Frigga who was positively beaming.

“I see he’s told you the truth, then,” she smiled.

Fandral bowed his head. “Yes, he has spoken to me about his woes, but I assure you that I have told no one else.”

“Wise of you,” Odin said, deep in thought.

“With all due respect, I care not for the politics or reasoning behind this, nor do I believe I need to know. I only know that my feelings are true for Loki, no matter which form he takes.”

“He has taken his other form with you?” Odin asked sharply, suddenly snapping back to the scene in front of him.

“I… Yes, he has, but –“

“Remarkable…” Odin muttered.

“Fandral, sweetheart,” Frigga said gently, placing a hand upon her husband’s. “We think your effect on Loki is incredible. He seems much happier nowadays than he ever has been.”

“May I have your blessings to wed your son?” Fandral asked at last.

They turned to each other, and intertwined their fingers before looking upon Fandral and answering simultaneously, “Yes.”

“I thank you greatly, Allfather, Lady Frigga. I swear to you, I will protect him for all eternity.”

With a last smile exchanged between the three, Fandral practically floated out the room to visit his soon-to-be husband.

 

\--

 

Fandral knocked sharply just once to let Loki know who was on the other side of his door. Instantly, the door gave several clicks before opening a crack and Fandral let himself in. He looked curiously at Loki, who stood peering up at his rapier upon the wall – his first sword, the one he made his first kill with. He kept it for the sentiment, of course, the weapon was not nearly proportionate enough anymore seeing as he’d grown so much over the years.

Fandral watched Loki run his finger against the smooth steel, before suddenly running his finger along the edge. When the blood spilled from the small cut, Fandral immediately grabbed Loki’s wrist and examined the wound.

Looking Loki fiercely in the eyes, he asked hotly, “What on Asgard do you think you’re doing?!”

“I was testing something is all,” Loki said too calmly, swiping his hand across the wound to close it. 

“Must you test it so _personally_?”

Loki laughed and planted a kiss on Fandral’s cheek. “You needn’t worry about me. Come take a look at this.”

‘This’ turned out to be a small circular device, about as big as a coin, and only slightly thicker, with a small red button in the middle.

“And what brilliant device have you made now, my little genius?”

“Press the button.”

Normally Fandral would have been overly conscious about doing such a thing, but he trust Loki had not just placed a bomb in his hand. He pressed, and the small device seemed warm in his hand. The feeling was vaguely familiar and surely enough, when he looked down upon himself, he was no longer there – physically, anyway.

“By the Norns!” Fandral exclaimed and Loki chuckled, happy with the reaction.

“Click twice to reverse the effect.”

Fandral did as he was told and was instantly met with Loki’s kiss once the prince could spot him again. 

“This is fantastic!” Fandral said happily, clicking it once again. This time, he pressed their lips together, guiding Loki’s hands across his own body. Loki hummed his approval for such a response. 

“I have been working on quite a few things that I think you’ll enjoy, but I suppose I’ll have to keep some of them for the ceremony.”

“You spoil me.” Fandral could barely contain his excitement for their gifts to be exchanged at the ceremony, clicking his new device twice. As by tradition, each party would present their spouse’s closest family a gift they believe worthy of their spouse – if the family members reject it, the offering party would be declined, deemed unfit to marry due to not knowing them well enough. Fandral was still nervous about his gift – after all, it would be Frigga and Odin judging his gift seeing as Thor would probably give him a good word regardless. He wondered if Loki was nervous about the warriors and Sif judging his gift. 

“Are you nervous?” Loki asked suddenly, stripping himself of his clothing to prepare for bed.

“You couldn’t possibly even comprehend,” Fandral murmured, mirroring Loki’s actions. Smiling, butterflies in their stomachs, they tumbled into bed together.

When they awoke at the crack of dawn – Fandral to the lazy circles Loki kept tracing over his hips bone – they rose in silence and it was then that they realized they had already fallen into a comfortable routine. It was all the little things that made them flow, work, blend together – the way that Loki showered first because his hair took longer to dry, and Fandral would tend to brushing his teeth or picking his clothes (from the closet space Loki had arranged for him) for the day. Or when it was Fandral’s turn that Loki would do the same, and dry his hair naturally, letting the ends flip outward while he flagged down a servant for breakfast. It became even more apparent to them when Loki returned the first favour Fandral ever extended – by ordering extra roast with sweetened gravy and had the carrots steamed. 

“How did you –”

“All I had to do was pay attention,” Loki answered, giving Fandral a sweet apple-apricot kiss. 

Yet for all the familiarity, there was always something new. Like the fact that Fandral’s clothing were comprised of many shades of green – not just the muted olive shade he wore so often to battle. 

“I was afraid you would think I was trying to mock you,” Fandral answered blushingly when Loki asked.

Or the fact that Loki had been practicing shapeshifting. 

“I have never been so attracted to a bird before,” Fandral had said once Loki resumed his Aesir form. Loki gave him a disgusted look before shoving Fandral playfully – and somehow that playful shoving had turned into heated sex, but this too was becoming part of their lives.

Before they knew it, their big day had approached, and as per custom, they were not to see each other the day before the wedding. The parting was bittersweet, but with one last kiss, they promised to never be apart again.

 

\--

 

Hours felt like they flew and dragged by at the same time - honestly, how did they end up here?

**“Here”: Loki, Part I**

“Honestly Thor, what on Asgard am I doing?!” Loki said with a flustered wave of his hand, sending the contents of his room flying around the two. 

“Brother, you must calm down.”

“Oh yes, Thor, let me just _calm down_ as I prepare to _get married_.”

“You and Fandral make a fine pair! What is there to worry about?”

“What if his friends do not agree with my gift? What if my robes catch fire or run askew? What if somebody ruins the ceremony? What if I forget what to say?”

“Loki, _breathe_ ,” Thor said, having to clmap both his hands down on slender shoulders to keep Loki still. “You are making my head spin with this pacing of yours. Come, sit.” 

No sooner had Loki’s leather-clad bottom hit the mattress did he spring right back up again. “By Odin’s beard! Am I expected to wear my…”He strolled over to pick up his helmet – which made Thor snicker.

“Does Fandral have a secret love for goats?”

“Oh, do not start with me, you chicken.”

\--

 

**“Here”: Fandral, Part I**

“Fandral –”

“My _gods_!” Fandral exclaimed, dodging Volstagg’s hand.

“Fandral –”

“- The king and queen!” He said exasperatedly to Hogun’s face. 

“Fandral –” Volstagg tried again.

“How am I supposed to flatter the _king and queen of Asgard_?!”

“FANDRAL!” 

The man jumped at Sif’s bellow (as did the rest of them).

“For crying out loud, you’re wearing the carpet thin with that cursed pacing of yours, now could you please just _sit_.”

“Oh – oh no,” Fandral said, face paling as he finally sat down (his knees gave out).

“What is is now?” Hogun asked irritably. 

“I am marrying a wordsmith.”

The three shared a look over Fandral’s head. Volstagg spoke for all of them when he asked, “And…?”

“The _vows_! He will have perfectly crafted words and I… I will have nothing compared to that!” He wailed, burying his head in his hands.

“FANDRAL!” Sif shouted to silence him once more.

“Yes?” 

Sif opened her mouth to begin speaking before remembering that she was the very last person who could give him advice. Turning to the only one who has married, she silently pleaded with her eyes. “Er – Volstagg?”

The redhead stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Well, Gudrun and I married quietly, a small ceremony if you remember. I was nervous, sure…. But love has a way with your mind and with your heart. I could’ve sworn I was _this_ close to fainting,” he says while placing his thumb and forefinger just an inch apart. “But the moment I saw her walking towards me, it didn’t matter which way my mind wanted to travel, my heart tugged it along and before I knew it, words were spilling from my mouth that I had never rehearsed. Anyhow, I’m sure you know how the rest of the evening went.”

“You drank so much ale your wife carried you home… well, bridal style,” Sif said, rubbing her temples.

The laughter between them put Fandral at ease – if only a slight bit.

 

\--

 

The Grand Hall had been charmed the moment the great doors slammed shut - the audience had hummed with excitement for quite some while since it had been announced that the second prince would marry before the first. What was even more was that he had taken a _male_ lover! Odin call them bilgesnipes, they couldn’t imagine such a thing, and they were dying to know who had been so dashing to have captured the young prince’s heart tightly enough.

“All rise!” Odin said calmly with a strike of Gugnir to the ground. He would marry his son off himself while his wife tended to Loki. Thor stood to his right, upon the fourth step, as Volstagg did on his left, Hogun on the fifth beside him. “We gather here to honour the life and love of Loki Odinson, second heir to the throne of Asgard, warrior of Asgard, and above all… my beloved son.”

The room began to murmur as Loki began to walk into view from Odin’s right, his stroll cat-like and majestic. His ceremonious armour was polished and shining gold, his vambraces included. He had forgone the helmet, his neat black hair carefully swept back as usual, though the ends were much tamer today. Frigga walked behind the billowing forest green cape, smile wide and eyes trained on her son. Loki’s eyes shone with joy, cheeks dimpled by his smile and armour fit snugly to his frame. Frigga stopped upon the third step, and Loki turned to bow slightly, letting Frigga place her hands on both sides of his face and whisper her blessings before planting a kiss upon his brow. Thor also gave his blessings, hugging his brother as he did so, though careful as to not displace any of Loki’s extra armour. He turned to face Odin once more and climb the remaining stairs to stand in front of his father. Odin hadn’t bothered supressing his smile, and pulled Loki into a tight embrace, giving his blessing as well. 

“We gather here to honour the life and love of Fandral Moyerson, warrior of Asgard and the finest swordsman in our realm.” 

\--

**“Here”: Loki, Part II**

His heart started to hammer in his chest upon seeing Fandral walk out from Odin’s left. His armour too had been polished, the silver shining as brilliantly as his gold. Fandral’s hair had been trimmed neatly, his facial hair immaculate. The dark green was only a few shades off from Loki’s, and had also been tailored properly to fit snugly against his body. His waist armour had also been upgraded to a dull gold underneath the green layers of his outer layer – the cloak that hung from both his shoulders in two long, thick ribbons. 

His eyes were wide and blue as the sky, his smile making Loki’s knees weak. Sif walked steps behind him, taking her place upon the third step, designated for the closest female of the poor, poor soul about to be married off. Loki could feel an odd heat rising, flushing his pale cheeks and wondered what on Asgard was happening to his naturally cool body. 

He watched as Fandral received his blessings with a smile from Hogun, Volstagg, and lastly Sif, who placed a gently kiss upon his brow. It caused a completely unnecessary jealousy in Loki, but all be damned, he never did like sharing. 

Calm as the gentle night’s breeze, Fandral sauntered up the last few steps to face Odin Allfather, who gave his blessings to marry his younger son.

\--

**“Here”: Fandral, Part II**

He knew he made a mistake the moment he looked up into Loki’s eyes before even stepping out to the golden dais. His knees instantly turned to pudding and if not for the heated gaze that Sif was surely training on him, he might have been content to just lay down on the floor.

He couldn’t understand how Loki managed to look so regal, so relaxed, but then again, it was Loki after all. Envious of the magnificent composure Loki held, Fandral tried to harden his resolve. 

Could the room hear his teeth clattering in anxiety? Well, the solution was simply, he would jump clamp them tightly together and beam up at his very soon to-be husband and went to accept the blessings from his friends. Their reassurances eventually made the smile seem less forced, and upon hearing _Odin_ , the _king of Asgard_ bless him, well, how could he be better off?

\--

“I ask that our guests offer homage to the men that stand in front of me –”

It must have been the only time that Odin had ever been interrupted, but the hall erupted into claps and cheers, whistles and the warriors rumble of stomping upon the ground – a sign of victory, of a good hunt. Loki and Fandral laughed and smiled to the crowd, waving to thank them of their support. 

Odin smiled as well, “Let the ceremony begin.” 

Loki and Fandral were asked to take their places on either side of Hliðskjálf, Odin’s throne, now. They cast nervous glances to each other as workers carried large caskets up the steps. 

Thor, Frigga and Odin stood in front of Loki, with Fandral’s casket in front, while Sif, Hogun, and Volstagg peered warily at the lid of Loki’s. Wedding or not, they didn’t put it past Loki to pull a prank or two. 

“Have you decided who shall present first?” Odin asked the two. 

Loki cleared his throat before declaring that Fandral asked to present first. 

“Very well,” Odin nodded and the workers revealed what Fandral had chosen for his dowry. Thor was the first to reach in, and retrieved a large jar of thick glass and bronze designing. 

Fandral cleared his throat to speak. “Storage, for residual sorcery. Forged from the dwarves, it will follow the command of its owner, to dissipate, to store, to transfer energy.”

Thor snuck a glance over at his brother, whose face was lit up in delight, and knew his answer immediately.

“It is a fine and suiting gift. We all know how much Loki could use a reserve for such excess power. May Asgard feel less of Loki’s insufferable wrath,” he joked. The crowd also let out a collective laugh. “I deem this gift worthy of my brother’s hand.”

Fandral let out a sigh of relief and mouthed a thank you, to which Thor smiled at in return.

Frigga was next to reach for a gift and retrieved a wooden box. She opened it and let out a small “oh” at its contents. Eight gleaming stones of various colours shone at her. 

“From Karnilla –”

“– Oh yes, these are eight of the most precious jewels Karnilla has in her possession. They are incredibly powerful and rare.” She lifted one to inspect it in the light, and there came gasps from the audience as the light seemed to make the stone glow. “Genuine, and no doubt very useful to a sorcerer as skilled as Loki. Yes, I deem this gift worthy of my son’s hand.”

Fandral knew he had gained many favours, but this last gift could set all his progress spinning and he watched nervously as Odin himself reached inside the casket. 

His hands came out with a large tome, almost as thick as his own chest. It was old – very old, and the pages had browned at the edges as proof. It was an impressive weight and the inscriptions inside were of a foreign origin. 

Fandral definitely knew he did not need to voice his reasoning for including this. Odin’s eyes traced over the brown pelt cover, the detailing of the lock upon its hide and nodded almost to himself. “This… This is the Great Tome of Vafþrúðnir, one of the wisest I have ever known.” 

Fandral tried to smile but knew it had come out weaker than he had hoped. He let Odin continue. 

“Vafþrúðnir was the sharpest mind I had ever come across, and many a time we would try to outwit each other. His death was a great loss to the realms, but with this volume, the realms may gain yet another brilliant mind. No doubt will Loki read this a hundred times over. I deem this gift worthy of my son’s hand.” 

The audience cheered and stomped for Fandral, who bowed deeply as the royal family also joined.

“And Loki,” Odin said once the noise had died down. 

The prince looked to the warriors and Volstagg nodded for the lid to Loki’s casket to be taken off. There were no explosions, no smoke, but a wonderful smell wafted over the room and everyone seemed to chatter delightedly about Loki’s “trick”. 

Hogun was the first to reach in, ignoring the scent, and retrieved a small block. 

Instead of explaining straightforwardly, Loki merely turned to Fandral. “Have you your sword?”

Fandral hardly left his trusted sword lying around, and he had taken care to bring it with him to his audience with all off Asgard to prove himself a warrior, a man fit for their prince. He wordlessly handed it over to Hogun. 

“Hogun, please take a few strokes to sharpen his sword.”  
Hogun followed the directions not too happily to be doing someone else’s dirty work. Nothing happened, minus the fact that Fandral’s sword had now gleamed with its polish.

“Forever sharpened,” Loki said simply.

“Forever – wait,” Fandral paused. The delight in this newfound spell was written across Fandral’s face. “Honestly?”

“Honestly,” Loki vowed. “I know how much you hate sharpening your sword.” In all honesty, Fandral probably complained about it once every other night. His weapon was an honoured thing – the engravings from his late parents that spelled “The Finest Swordsman” and true to those words, he was. Through training, practice, sheer determination to prove himself, he had best every single warrior in Asgard handed a blade, including both princes, and rightfully earned his title. 

“Furthermore, each side of the block has a ward inscribed – it will protect you from the elements of battle and potential harm – fire, water, air, wood, metal, and ice.”

Fandral could have jumped from joy, but they knew that too much talking was forbidden, in case of bribery, persuasion, or trickery, and turned back to Hogun for the final verdict.

Hogun exposed a rare smile that touched the bottom of his eyes. “We will never have to hear of Fandral complaining of the dullness of his sword or worry of him in battle? Ha! I deem this gift very worthy of my brother-in-arm’s hand.”

The warriors in the crowd were the loudest of the ones who applauded to this gift, surely envious and delighted for their friend. 

Volstagg pulled the next gift out of the box, which turned out a blue orb, faintly glowing. 

“Teleportation ring, however I’m afraid it will only respond to Fandral’s touch should you need a demonstration.”

“Perhaps you could just explain to me how it would work instead,” Volstagg suggested.

“Gladly,” Loki agreed. “Fandral, should he ever need it, simply has to grasp the ball in his hand and throw it to the ground. It will transport him, and four others, back to the Bifrost dome, where Heimdall will see to it that you have arrived safely. The ring will return to a ball and reappear to Fandral.”

“Four others?” Volstagg asked aloud, though he knew the significant of the number. It was meant for Fandral to transport the rest of their usual riding group, Hogun, Sif, Thor, and himself included. For all the jokes they make, they are aware that Fandral is always getting hurt in battle purely because he throws himself in the line of fire to protect the rest of his friends – especially Volstagg. Once, he asked Fandral why he did this for him, and Fandral had responded that he had nobody waiting for him at home, that he could not let Gudrun and all his children go without a father. It was perfect – he never wanted to see Fandral hurt in battle again. Tears threatened to spill as he managed the last part. “I see the thought you have put into this gift, and I see its purpose clearly. A very considerate gift, indeed. I deem this gift worthy of my brother-in-arm’s hand.” 

The crowd applauded once more, and quite a mutterings of “jealous” and “want that” floated above. Sif then drew her hands into the casket but her face pinched furiously when she withdrew them, empty. “Loki, what is the meaning of this?” she asked. 

Loki smiled mischievously. He gave a glance to the servant who nodded and retreated quickly. The audience was now murmuring and Odin looked curiously to his son, who was positively beaming with glee. The servant returned and the audience was absolutely beside itself with good-natured laughter, Fandral and Loki included.

The servant looked absolutely terrified as he led the large stallion up to the dais. Unsure of whether or not he should continue, he held the reigns tightly and looked around for instruction. 

Loki brought his thumb and forefinger in a ring to his mouth and whistled sharply. The horse reared and flew up the stairs in one leap to nuzzle his summoner.

Loki chuckled before petting the animal’s nose. “Over there, she’s the one judging you,” he said pointing at Sif, who was staring with her mouth gaping.

The horse was very obedient, and its fire-red hooves clacked their way over to the astounded Sif. She reached out tentatively and the horse ducked under her hand and pushed up, effectively forcing her to pet him. Sif laughed at the notion. “A very demanding horse you have here, Loki. And quite… unique.”

The horse was creamy in colour, unlike any other in Asgard while its hooves and fur just above them were bright red. The tail that swished back and forth and the long, glossy mane were also the same, resembling dancing flames.

The horse stared at her, as if waiting for a decision and snickered softly. Suddenly it reared back and let out what should have been a high-pitched whinny, but was instead a ferocious sound like a battle cry. When he landed upon his front hooves again, the whole room shook, but the horse flicked his ears and went back to nuzzling Sif as if he had not just terrified the entire court. 

“Firehooves likes to be very assertive in battle,” Loki added nonchalantly, completely unfazed. 

Sif could see Fandral out of the corner of her eye, giddy and bouncing. She looked Firehooves in his chestnut brown eyes and began to run her hand down his strong, powerful neck, marvelling at how soft his coat was. Obviously Loki had gone through great lengths to acquire such a rare, gifted, beautiful stallion. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen – and she had spent quite some time staring at Odin’s steed, Sleipnir. 

“This steed has proven to be as mighty a warrior as Fandral – mightier even,” she teased with a smile to Fandral. The crowd laughed along with her, but even they knew where this would go now. “I deem this gift worthy of my brother-in-arm’s hand.”

The roar of the people was deafening as the first part of the ceremony came to a close.

Odin resumed his duties. “Let it be said that I, Odin Allfather, bless these two in front of me with a lifetime of happiness and nothing less. Should anyone step forth with a reason as to why they should not be, I will hear it now, or you shall forever hold your peace.”

“I have a reason,” came a deep voice from the crowd, drawing murmurs and quite a deathly glare from Loki. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Fandral muttered under his breath, feeling Loki turned away from him to face the one who had crashed his wedding, slender hands slipping out of calloused ones. 

“And let it be heard, your reason,” Odin reluctantly said, following the procedures of such an intervention.

“Because he is _argr_!” Einarr hissed. 

The room broke out into a chorus of jeers and gasps of horror, some outraged by the outrburst, some snickering in concurrence. 

Fandral was fuming now, especially upon seeing Friðþjófur and Hallsteinn walking close behind, but he did not even compare to Loki. 

Loki was a master at masking his emotions, but one only had to look carefully for the signs – the hardened, stony green eyes filled with hatred, the hard set lines of his thin lips in a promise of vengeance. 

Before Odin could speak, Loki’s words were already formed. “So it is I that you have a problem with?”

“AYE IT IS YOU! Of course it is you!” Einarr’s face went nearly scarlet with fury. 

“Why? Because you despise me for my seiðr, my spá, my galdr, my runic magic?”

“Absolutely.”

“That you think I do not deserve the victories upon the field, that I need to test my strength with my magic bound against a warrior of the Asgardian army?”

“That’s right!”

Gugnir hit the floor before Einarr could even realize what he had just signed up for. Loki smiled triumphantly as Odin’s voice rang clear through the buzzing hall. “Let it be witnessed that to resolve this dispute, a hólmganga has been accepted.”

Einarr’s face changed slowly upon realizing that he had been tricked by Loki’s words, but grabbed his sword anyway, confident in himself to prove once and for all that Loki was no man of Asgard, no warrior. He hid behind the cowardice of his womanly magic.

Friðþjófur stepped forward to proclaim unfairness. “It was a trick! Loki tricked him! Just like he always does!”

“Does he not have ears?” Loki said smoothly. When nobody answered, he offered the rest. “Because it seems to me he does. And if the man has ears, he can hear. I spoke clearly when stating my intention and it somehow missed that, I hardly think it’s right I am to blame.”

“That is because you twist your words!” Hallsteinn agreed.

“Does he not have a brain?” Loki asked again. “I’d like to think he does, but then again, I cannot be sure. And if he has a brain, he can think. If you thought it was a puzzle or trick, surely you have unravelled it by now?”

Einarr could not admit to not having ears, or a brain, and least of all, he could not admit to being dull. “No, the little _sorðinn_ is right, I have all those thing, and I don’t mind that he tricked me, all cowards rely on tricks.”

Fandral all but exploded. “You have some nerve, Einarr! You insult the crafts that have saved so many men in our army, you insult the sorcerer who has brought hordes to their knees single-handedly and yet you give him no credit. You call him sorðinn when in fact it is I you should be spewing your filth at!”

The announcement affected the court in different ways, Thor seeming to blush at the declaration of who fulfilled the woman’s role during his little brother’s intercourse.

“Ah, so you too are ragr, then you too must be rid of.”

It might’ve been a threat, but Fandral only held his hand out, palm up, for his sword. 

Friðþjófur mirrored his action just the same.

“Let it be witnessed that to resolve this dispute, a second hólmganga has been accepted,” Odin said respectfully.

“And you –“ Hallsteinn exclaimed, mace pointed at Thor. “The future king of Asgard who so proudly stands beside his seiðskratti of a _sister_. Shame upon you and your father’s name, you disgrace us all.”

It was a wonder Odin didn’t smite him then and there, or that Thor didn’t call for Mjolnir and flatten the man to the ground, but today was Loki’s grand day, and it would not be ruined so.

“Then let us settle this,” Thor said, voice dangerously low. “And _when_ I defeat you, let it be clear that I will not tolerate such disrespect for my brother’s respectable nature.”

“And a third,” Odin was forced to say. It had been unheard of for such a rapid succession of hólmgangas to take place, and certainly never three at a wedding of a prince. The crowd was uneasy, but they could not help but watch the spectacle unfold.

“What are your demands for our hólmganga?” Loki asked, eyes piercing into Einarr from his stance upon the dais like an eagle hunting prey. 

“They take place here and now to stop this madness. No man shall marry a man in the realm of warriors. Should I win, you will be banished from Asgard, and spend one night with me.”

“I accept. And should I win, male-to-male marriages will have its own right here, and you will be subject to any one casting of my seiðr, of my choice.”

Einarr laughed. “I accept. You will not win.”

“Friðþjófur,” Loki tipped his head to the impatient man. 

“Should I win, you will have your magic bound for eternity, and also spend one night with me.”

“I accept.”

“That is not fair!” Fandral cried. “Your duel is with me, Friðþjófur, your demands should be from me.”

Friðþjófur smiled and waited for Loki’s move. Without disappointment, Loki kept his face cool and stony. “I accepted the terms. State yours in return. I know you will not lose.”

Feeling pressured, yet reassured, Fandral didn’t hesitate. “Should I win, you will be banished to the outskirts of Asgard, and if you ever set foot inside the central square, you will be executed.”

“I accept,” Friðþjófur agreed eagerly.

“Hallsteinn,” Loki addressed.

“First of all, Thor will not be allowed to wield Mjolnir. Now, should I win, you will have your tongue ripped from your mouth… _After_ you spend one night with me.”

“I accept. Thor?” he turned to his brother, red in the face and hands balled into such tight fists his knuckles had turned white.

“Should I win, you will be subjected to serve the palace under our command... as a eunuch.” 

“I accept,” Hallsteinn said, swinging his heavy mace with ease.

Odin let out an audible sigh, clearly disturbed at what his sons had just been set up for, and Frigga had kept her hand over her mouth the entire time. Intervening would no doubt solidify their son’s title of seiðskratti.

“Let us begin,” he said, his voice softening. 

Thor and Hallsteinn were both stocky figures, Hallsteinn taller, Thor wider. Evenly matched in sheer strength, their first bouts of wrestling had been a series of tumbles along the cleared hall. When Hallsteinn made a move for his mace, Hogun quickly tossed Thor one as well. It wasn’t his weapon of choice of course, but Thor found the balance quickly as if it were a hammer, and swung to test its weight. He missed Hallsteinn completely, leaving him open for a deep jut in the ribcage from Hallsteinn’s blunt handle of the mace. He quickly rolled to put distance between them and rose. His own mace felt heavier than his hammer, but he would not give up for his brother. Loki had _three_ nights at stake! With renewed anger at the men who dared to ruin his brother’s day, he lunged, and side-stepped at the last second, causing Hallsteinn to throw his weapon forward, and throw his balance off when lunging after Thor to his side. Thor brought his mace down, lodging its spikes into the wooden shaft of Hallsteinn’s weapon. 

Abandoning their weapons for a moment, Thor lunged and drove his hand upward to Hallsteinn’s chin, causing the man to fall onto his back. The moment Thor brought his elbow down, Hallsteinn rolled, retrieving their entangled weapons, and tried to counter the attack. The added weight of Thor’s mace proved to throw Hallsteinn’s aim off – missing Thor’s shoulder that soon barrelled into Hallstein’s sternum. Once on the floor, Thor easily subdued the man, pulling the man’s arms back to elicit a cry from Hallsteinn’s mouth.

“I yield!” he roared in pain as Thor was none too kind on pulling the arms as far as they could go without breaking them. 

The crowd applauded Thor, and Loki gave him a grateful smile – Thor knew that the smile wasn’t for winning, but for defending his brother , something he would gladly do time and time again.

Frigga had to restrain herself from holding Thor close to her, thankful that he merely had a few bruises, and Thor could have sworn that Odin had been holding his breath through the entire battle. The Allfather gave a quiet order to the servant nearby, who scrambled to do as Odin bid.

There was a wordless transition from Hallsteinn to Friðþjófur, who was prancing from foot to foot. A skilled swordsmaster, he swung his blade from side to side, slashing at the air in front as if to show prowess. Fandral stood tall and proud, face passive – so much so that it made Loki almost beam with pride. 

Their face-off was just as deadly, though much more noisy. The clanging of blades filled the hall, the soft pit-pattering of their dancing feet as they jumped forward and back, circling each other like animals in the wilderness. The clang of steel upon steel reverberated, sending chills down Loki’s spine. His eyes never left the battle, as he watched Fandral prove to be more agile than Friðþjófur.

Forcing Friðþjófur backwards, Fandral advanced and grew more confident with every step. They were both growing tired with the weight of their weapons and force of their offence. He was even more grateful now for Loki’s gift, feeling the smoothness of his sharpened blade. Friðþjófur may have had an inch or two on Fandral, but Fandral didn’t earn his title for nothing – the parrying intensified until Fandral faked a swing to the ring before swooping underneath, lunging forward, and knocking Friðþjófur’s blade right out from his hand. He stood poised with the tip of his blade to Friðþjófur’s throat as the other man raised his hands in surrender, but said nothing. 

“Do you yield?” Fandral asked, breathing heavily.

There was only a cold glare as Friðþjófur was obviously too stubborn to lose, even as he was figuratively backed into a corner. Fandral had no intention to kill a man, but this _was_ his and Loki’s wedding, and he didn’t take too kindly to being disturbed. He lowered the tip of his weapon ever so slightly and promptly brought his fist up instead, cracking his knuckles against Friðþjófur’s cheek, causing him to collapse onto his bottom. Fandral brought the tip of the blade once more, to the point between Friðþjófur’s eyes. 

“Do. You. Yield?” Fandral asked sharply.

“I yield,” Friðþjófur said grudgingly.

When the adrenaline rush of his duel was finally over, it quickly dawned on him that Loki was up next, and wave of panic washed over him. When he looked upon the dais again, Loki had taken his heaviest layers of ceremonious armour off, and now he stood, bare from the waist up. No longer a prince with his gold and soft black satin, he would have resembled a commoner if not for the way Loki held his head high with dignity and his radiating confidence and silent demand for authority. Thor held open the jar that Fandral had gifted to him and Loki eagerly started to dump his power in the pot. Cracks and hisses were almost inaudible, and later on some would claim they had seen green smoke while others would claim it was black. There was nothing visible, though Loki’s brow had furrowed at one point before nodding to let Thor screw on the lid. He acted as if it had no effect on him, though Fandral knew that draining a sorcerer of so much energy at once was tiring.  
Loki then unclasped the heavy golden belt he had worn as the last piece of clothing to remove. As usual, he kept his vambraces on, and he faced Einarr confidently. 

“No tricks up my sleeves, as you can see.”

“Yes,” Einarr huffed. “And not a single mark of a true man either. Tell me, seiðskratti, where are your scars of battle?”

Loki shrugged nonchalantly, disregarding the derogatory term. “How am I to receive a scar when my opponent cannot get within an arm’s length of me?” He walked down the stairs from Odin’s throne every inch a regal prince that he was. Fandral’s heart thudded in his chest, and he made a point to look over at the royal family – Frigga clutching Thor’s shoulders hard enough to make crescent-shaped marks in his flesh, Odin’s fingers tapping absentmindedly along Gugnir’s handle. Even Thor, who had seen Loki in battle and practice many times, was nervous. Loki had _never_ let his magic be bound. 

The servant boy at the bottom looked up at Loki with sorrowful eyes. Loki held out his wrists. It took two servants to lift the extremely heavy circular band and lock it in place. It clamped down on Loki’s wrist snugly, and he was visibly irritated by it. The second cuff went on in similar fashion and Odin cleared his throat. 

“From the forges of Brokk and Eitri, these cuffs will deplete Loki of his magic for the entire duration that they remain in place,” Odin stated before directing Gugnir at Loki. It was the only time Loki showed a sign of discomfort – the cringe and sharp inhale of breath as the cement cuffs darkened. Loki took an uneasy step forward before righting himself again, clenching and unclenching his fists, breathing slightly quicker. 

Einarr laughed at his pain, which infuriated Fandral.

“Let’s dance, fair maiden,” he mocked.

Truthfully, if anyone had to describe it, it truly was a dance, at least on Loki’s part. Whereas Einarr was built like Thor, muscular and broad, Loki was graceful and agile, limbs practically a blur as he lashed out. It was no surprise that he caught Einarr off-guard, for the soldier was almost stumbling in hopes of fending Loki’s ferocious attack off.

Friðþjófur could see his friend struggling, and threw his sword to aid the man. Einarr grasped the handle of Friðþjófur’s blade, using the hilt to catch Loki by the shoulder. Loki pulled back, reassessing their match. Einarr had already had the physical advantage, and now that he had a weapon, Loki was certain Einarr would kill him if the chance arose. He calculated his next steps. The loss of his magic was an odd, distracting sensation, his body seemingly lighter, less connected somehow as if the magic had held his structure and flesh together. It wouldn’t do him well to be at such a disadvantage, he knew. Anxiously, he glanced over at Fandral, now talking animatedly with someone, eyes not even on the match. Swallowing, Loki turned his focus back on the advancing man, sword in hand. 

The first swing was an obvious one, from the angle of Einarr’s body. Loki dodged easily, but there wasn’t a chance he would get close enough to land a blow of his own. He worried, thinking that he could only keep up the dance for so long.

“Loki!” Fandral’s voice called out to him. He circled so that he could keep Einarr in sight as he eyed Fandral over the man’s shoulder. Relief swept over him when Fandral threw the long pole-arm at him. This – This felt right. He spun the staff in his hands before facing Einarr with a renewed smirk.

The pole gave him distance and great defence, and he blocked all of Einarr’s attacks with extreme ease, watching the man tire from swinging his word. He parried, and swung, jabbing the blunt end of his pole into Einarr’s side, hearing a definite _crack_ of a rib or two. He wouldn’t relent now – he pushed forward, grinding his boot into the ground for traction as he advanced.

Einarr didn’t stand a chance at this point – Loki moved like lightning with precise jabs and powerful legs, refusing to let the weighted cuffs bring him down. His muscles flexed beautifully with the strain of his onslaught, and his hair had become loose to frame his dangerous glinting eyes. 

He whacked the staff against the ground, catching Einarr’s footing and promptly brought the staff up to catch Einarr under the chin. The man staggered backwards, losing his balance. The polearm was at his throat in a second, Loki placing a boot upon the man’s chest.

“Well?” he asked with a little extra pressure on the man’s Adam’s apple. They stared at each other with hate and disgust for what seemed like a century. 

“… I yield,” Einarr finally rasped, presumably because he missed the feeling of breathing. 

Loki let up and the six challengers stood to take their place before Odin, the servants hurriedly taking the blasted cuffs off Loki. Fandral ran his thumb along the tender, raw flesh until Loki held his hand proudly. 

“To the victor of the first hólmganga, Hallstein, you are to be a servant of the palace, under the command of the Odinson name. Your sentence will be processed tomorrow morn. To the victor of the second hólmganga, Friðþjófur, you will be banished from Asgard, and face execution upon return. Your sentence is effective immediately, you will have until sunrise to pack your belongings and leave. To the victor of the third hólmganga, Einarr, you are subjected to one spell of Loki’s choosing, and any further male-to-male marriages will be marriages of the law, regardless of the family name. The laws will be re-written first thing in the morning. These sentences are final.”

And so it was done. Friðþjófur was escorted to his dwellings by guards, Hallstein taken to a holding cell until the morning, and Einarr stood at the mercy of Loki, who was gliding a pale, slender finger over his bottom lip in thought. 

“Hmmm, what to do with you?” Loki toyed. 

“Get on with it,” Einarr growled.

“Brother dearest?” Loki called.

“Yes?”

“How is your steed doing?”

“Still deemed unfit to ride, why?”

The grin on Loki’s face widened as he unscrewed the lid to the jar holding his magic. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as if the magic returning to him filled him with new life. He balled his hands into fists, flexing and testing, while Einarr seemed to have caught on.

“No!”

Loki needn’t speak for this work – the power flowed through him and Einarr’s body was shaken instantly, a blur, the rips of his clothing, gasps from the audience and a loud chuckle from Thor. 

“So that he may be ridden by many men, I hope,” Loki added, petting his new achievement. 

The chestnut brown skin was much darker than Einarr, but his red hair remained. Thor walked over to pet his new… _horse_ before laughing in genuine delight.

“My brother, the craftiest sorcerer in the nine realms!” The audience laughed with him this time, a few murmuring their approval. “Thank you, brother.”

Loki bowed his head in return.

“Now, let’s get you married,” Thor said happily, and this time, not a single person in the audience stayed silent.

\--

 

Now, they had to exchange vows. 

Odin resumed his place in front of Hliðskjálf, and waved his hands to instruct the two to face each other once more. 

“Have you decided who shall present first?” he asked once more.

“This time, Loki will take the lead,” Fandral answered.

“Very well.” 

This was something the crowd had looked forward to – Loki, the weaver of words, Silvertongue, preparing a speech for an event so serious. Would he be humble? Would he be witty? Everyone sat on the very edge of their seats. 

Loki clasped Fandral’s hands in his own and never took his eyes off the man for a second.  
“Fandral the Dashing, the finest warrior in all of Asgard,  
A man worthy of the night sky, his moon, his stars. (The women let out a long “aw”, surprised by his affectionate opening.) 

A man I had never thought of one day loving,  
Yet a friend and then some I hadn’t seen coming.  
I vow to share with you, my grace and wisdom,  
And if I were king, half this kingdom,  
However, I’m afraid you’ve married the wrong prince for such,  
But I promise that to give, I still have much: (The crowd guffawed, Thor and Odin the loudest.)  
Fandral, my love, I give to you my life,  
Through the fortunes and through the strife,  
I give to you my tender care,  
No matter it a scar or tear,  
I give to you my strength in fight,  
My magic red as fire and black as night,  
Fandral, my love, I give my eternal promise  
To lay myself bare for you, and give you… this,” he whispered, slender, pale finger drawing a heart over his left breast. (Frigga was bawling at this point)

Yggdrasil burn to the very root if the Norns should like,  
I would gladly step into the flame to be by your side.  
Needless to say, I will never leave you,  
The man who has loved me, and made me a better being too  
To keep you beside me for all time is my true intention,  
I would be lost without your smile and charm, your love attention – to jam of all things (Fandral was the only one who laughed)  
And top it all off, I couldn’t believe my luck  
When I discovered that you were such a good… Well, I think I should stop there.“

The hall nearly exploded with the ruckus that those lines had created, but Fandral felt his heart swell – it made him want to laugh, to cry, it was everything that was _Loki._

The crafty prince, god of crafting words had done it.

“How am I to ever follow such a magnificent speech?” Fandral teased, running his thumb in circles on the back of Loki’s hand. “I suppose I’ll have to say that I loved it, as I love you. Your ability to weave such words and make me feel even more drawn to you, your intelligence and cunning wit, your magnificent battles and cleverness – it is all that is I have fallen for over the past few centuries. To think we started off with so many miscommunications… It frightens me to think of what might have happened had we not discussed the troubles of our past.”

A sad chorus of “aw” and little gasps did not deter Fandral.

“But then I remind myself that there is no reason to fear – not when I have you here, with me, and about to join me for what I hope to be the rest of my life. I will never leave your side – though I would hope that it isn’t due to the realm being aflame. I will be loyal, and I guarantee that I will love you until my last breath is drawn. I swear to you Loki, I will dedicate the rest of my years to loving you, protecting you, and cherishing our time together.” 

It must have been some small miracle that Sif had started to _bawl_ , and Hogun had begun to tear up. Volstagg blew heavily into this handkerchief as Odin’s one blue eye shone wetly.

Their lips fit together perfectly, as if Urðr had weaved the threads of Fate this way. They smiled upon hearing the uproar from the crowd, the sniffling of Loki’s mother and Volstagg, the soft laughs that escaped their own mouths. 

“I, Odin Allfathter, pronounce you husband and husband.”

“I am yours,” Fandral added with a whisper, his breath tickling Loki’s lips.

With a smile equal to Fandral’s, Loki responded, “And I am yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WROTE A THING ABOUT THIS: http://off-duty-librarian.tumblr.com/post/34963397342/affinity-for-oddities-i-finally-finished
> 
> It explains my thought process and other things that might not have been prominent in the story, but there are a few points I tried to make.
> 
> here's an excerpt, as promised:  
> Magics:  
> “seiðr” is most commonly translated as "witchcraft”. It can include the following: shamanic magic (such as spirit journeys, magical healing of the body and soul, prophecizing, channeling the gods or the gods' voices through a human agent, performing magic that affects weather or animal movements, as well as a wide range of malefic magic. Seiðr is usually the type of magic which works by affecting the mind by illusion, madness, forgetfulness or other means.  
> “ørlög” = how things will be, as determined by Wyrd (Urðr) of the Three Norns. (In Lokasenna, it is said that Frigga and Odin both know all ørlög.)  
> “Spá” is the magic of determining ørlög.(In Lokasenna, Sif is said to be a spá-kona, one who indulges in spá.)  
> “hamhleypa” is the magic of shape- or skin-shifting.  
> “Galdr” = "to sing" (refers to magical songs, and is usually associated with men's magical incantations)  
> “Runic magic” – isn’t a Norse term, but the magic of the runes was mostly, though not exclusive to the men.  
> Insults:  
> “Níð” can be defined as "libel, insult, scorn, lawlessness, cowardice, sexual perversion, homosexuality"  
> “Ergi” and “regi” were nouns that derived from this root word. Their translations would equal “unmanliness” or “cowardice”. Therefore, it is incorrect to say “He was an ergi” but rather “He was one of ergi”.  
> “Argr” or “ragr” are the adjectives that derived from this root word. Their translations would equal “unmanly” or “cowardly” and were used to describe any man "willing or inclined to play the female part in sexual relations with another man”. Therefore, one would say “He was argr.”  
> “ergjask”= "to become argr"  
> “stroðinn” or “sorðinn” = "sexually used by a man” while similarily, “sansorðinn” = “demonstrably sexually used by another man"  
> A man who is a seiðmaðr (one who practices women's magic) who is argr is called “seiðskratti”

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH. SO. SO. SO MUCH.  
> <3
> 
> P.S. I have to say that I fell in love with this pairing so I will definitely be writing more of them in the future...   
> ALSO ONE-SHOT FOLLOW UP OF SMUTTY TOP!FANDRAL IN THE WORKS. <3 I just need to work on my other WIPs first mmkay? <3 I love you all!  
> Thank you for all the lovely feedback and comments, it all made me so happy!


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